The Programs I Actually Use: A Personal Map of Points, Miles, and What They're For

People always ask the same question: what's the best points program? And it's the wrong question, in the same way "what's the best knife?" is the wrong question if you cook seriously. Best for breaking down a chicken? Best for mincing herbs? Best for the drawer because it makes you feel like the kind of person who owns a Japanese knife? These are different answers.

I don't have a favorite program. I have a portfolio. Each currency does a job, and the job determines whether I earn it aggressively, redeem it carefully, or keep it around the way you keep a specific screwdriver — not because you use it every day, but because when you need it, nothing else works.

This is the map.

Hyatt — The Anchor

Hyatt is the cleanest hotel currency in the game. Not the biggest footprint, not the most aspirational top end, but the most legible. The award chart makes sense. The points transfer at a ratio that doesn't require mental gymnastics. And the consistency between what you expect and what you get is higher than any other hotel program I use.

I center my hotel strategy around Hyatt because the value is real and repeatable. A Category 4 Hyatt in a good city — Andaz Tokyo, Park Hyatt Buenos Aires, Hyatt Centric in a walkable European neighborhood — delivers a stay that would cost $300 to $500 a night, for 15,000 to 20,000 points. That math works every time, not just when you catch a devaluation window or game a promotion.

The Grand Hyatt Kauai is the redemption I come back to when explaining this to friends. A resort that would run $700 or $800 a night in high season, one of the best pool complexes I've ever seen, a club lounge worth spending time in — and it books on points at a rate that makes you feel like you've found an error in the system. You haven't. Hyatt's chart is just that good.

What makes Hyatt the anchor isn't just the cents-per-point math. It's that I trust it. When I transfer Chase points to Hyatt, I know what I'm getting. There's no opacity, no dynamic pricing shell game, no feeling that the program is trying to extract more from me than I'm extracting from it. In a landscape of deliberately confusing loyalty programs, Hyatt's clarity is its most valuable feature.

Hilton — SLH and the Anti-Stuffy Play

I don't love Hilton as a pure points currency the way I love Hyatt. The points feel inflationary — you earn a lot, you spend a lot, and the per-point value is structurally lower. If Hyatt is a savings account with a reliable interest rate, Hilton is more like a slot machine that occasionally pays out in boutique hotel nights.

But Hilton has something most people overlook: the Small Luxury Hotels partnership. SLH properties are bookable through Hilton Honors, which means you can use Hilton points and free night certificates at independent boutique hotels that have nothing in common with a typical Hilton. Pillows Hotel in Amsterdam. La Valise in Tulum. Torralbenc in Menorca. These are design-forward, personality-driven properties — the kind of places where the hotel itself is a reason to visit. They don't feel like Hilton. That's the point.

The Waldorf Astoria portfolio is fine, and I don't mind it when the opportunity is there. But I'm not trying to fight for Waldorf availability when I can book an SLH property that has more character, more specificity, and more of the quality that actually makes a hotel stay memorable. The SLH collection is where Hilton becomes genuinely interesting — less corporate luxury, more curated independence.

I hold the Aspire card for the free night certificates, which work at SLH properties and regularly cover stays that would cost $400 to $800 a night. The certificates are the engine. SLH is the destination. The combination makes Hilton a program I use for a completely different kind of stay than Hyatt — not the reliable, legible value play, but the idiosyncratic boutique experience that most hotel loyalty programs can't touch.

Alaska Mileage Plan — The Connoisseur Program

Alaska is the program I'd recommend to someone who enjoys the craft of this hobby. Not because it's the easiest — it isn't — but because it still rewards knowledge and intentionality in a way that most airline programs have abandoned.

The value of Alaska lives in its partner award chart. Cathay Pacific business class to Hong Kong. Japan Airlines first class to Tokyo. Emirates first class on fifth-freedom routes. These are bookable through Alaska at rates that reflect a chart built in a more generous era, one that hasn't been fully rationalized into the dynamic pricing models that have hollowed out programs like Delta SkyMiles.

The catch is that Alaska requires you to know the map. Availability isn't always obvious. The routing rules have quirks. You sometimes need to call and work with an agent who understands the partner you're trying to book. This is the program for people who enjoy that process — who treat the search for availability as part of the hobby rather than an obstacle to it.

I earn Alaska miles through credit card transfers and targeted promotions, and I spend them almost exclusively on premium cabin international flights with partners. It's not my most-used program by volume. But per redemption, it's where I consistently get the most interesting experiences.

Chase Ultimate Rewards — The Reserve Currency

Chase points are not exciting in themselves. No one has ever felt emotionally attached to a Chase Ultimate Rewards balance. What makes them valuable is what they can become.

Chase transfers to Hyatt at 1:1, which makes it the primary funding mechanism for my anchor hotel program. It transfers to United, Southwest, British Airways, and a handful of other partners that fill specific gaps. And when I don't yet know what I want to do with points — when a trip is still hypothetical, when the destination hasn't been chosen — Chase is where I park the value.

This is the reserve currency of the points world. Flexible, liquid, convertible. I earn it aggressively through the Sapphire Reserve and Freedom cards, and I hold it until I know exactly where it should go. The discipline is not to transfer speculatively. Chase points are worth the most in the moment before you transfer them, when they still contain every possibility. Once they become Hyatt points or United miles, they've been committed. The art is in the timing.

American Airlines — Practical Long-Haul Utility

AAdvantage is not a romantic program. Nobody writes love letters about American Airlines the way they do about Singapore or ANA. But it is a deeply practical one, and practicality has its own kind of value.

I use American miles primarily for transatlantic business class — JFK to London, to Madrid, to Rome. The oneworld alliance gives me access to British Airways, Iberia, Finnair, Qatar Airways, and a network that covers most of the places I actually want to go in Europe and the Middle East. The availability isn't always generous, but when it's there, the redemptions are straightforward in a way that doesn't require the archaeology that Alaska sometimes demands.

American is the program I use when I need an airline that behaves like a transportation network rather than a collector's item. I earn it, I spend it, I don't think about it too much. It solves itinerary problems. That's enough.

Amex Membership Rewards — Broad Optionality

Amex points occupy a strange position in my portfolio: extremely powerful, slightly abstract. The transfer partner list is arguably the best in the game — ANA, Singapore, Delta, Hilton, British Airways, and more. The Platinum and Gold cards generate points at a rate that makes them impossible to ignore.

And yet I find myself less emotionally invested in Amex points than in almost any other currency I hold. Maybe it's because the optionality is so broad that no single redemption feels definitive. Chase points become Hyatt points and I feel satisfied. Amex points become ANA miles and I feel like I've made one choice among many, and I'm not sure it was the best one.

This is the capital markets version of points: extremely liquid, sometimes a bit diffuse until deployed. I earn Membership Rewards steadily and transfer them when a specific opportunity emerges — usually an airline partner where Amex access matters and Chase can't reach. The program is powerful. I just don't love it the way I love the currencies with sharper identities.

Programs I Respect but Don't Center

Not every program needs to be part of your identity. Some are there to solve specific problems and then get out of the way.

Marriott Bonvoy has the largest hotel footprint in the world, which means it's often the only option in a given city. I'm working toward lifetime Platinum, which is the real long game with Bonvoy — locking in permanent status in a program whose footprint guarantees you'll use it whether you love it or not. The points aren't exciting. The redemption math rarely thrills. But lifetime status in a program with 8,000 properties worldwide is a different kind of asset than a high-value award chart. It's infrastructure for decades of travel.

United MileagePlus is more useful than I gave it credit for when I was younger and more focused on aspirational partner awards. Living in New York, United is simply a practical airline — EWR is a hub, the Star Alliance network covers everywhere I want to go, and the domestic availability out of the New York area is strong. I transfer Chase points here regularly for both domestic and international awards. It's not romantic, but it's the airline program that solves the most day-to-day problems.

Avios — the currency shared by British Airways, Iberia, and Qatar — is a utility knife. Phenomenal for short-haul awards, especially off-peak flights within Europe or on American Airlines domestic routes through the BA award chart. I keep a small balance and deploy it surgically.

Delta SkyMiles is a program I've largely given up trying to value. Dynamic pricing means the cost of any given award is whatever Delta feels like charging today. I earn SkyMiles through Amex transfers when a specific redemption makes sense, but I don't treat them as a serious store of value. They're spending money, not savings.

How I Assign Jobs

The portfolio works because each program has a defined role:

Hyatt handles hotels that matter — the stays where the property is part of the trip, not just where you sleep. Resorts, design hotels, city properties where location and quality justify the points.

Hilton handles SLH and boutique stays — the independent properties with real personality, unlocked through free night certificates and the Small Luxury Hotels partnership.

Alaska handles high-leverage partner flights — the premium cabin redemptions that require knowledge and patience but deliver experiences you can't get through any other program at the same price.

Chase sits upstream as flexible capital — the reserve currency that funds Hyatt and fills gaps across airline partners.

Amex provides broad optionality — the deep bench of transfer partners for when Chase can't reach the program I need.

American provides practical long-haul utility — the workhorse for transatlantic business class and oneworld itineraries.

Everything else fills gaps.

This isn't a system I designed all at once. It's what emerged from years of earning, spending, making mistakes, and gradually learning which currencies I trust and which ones I merely tolerate. The portfolio evolved the way any portfolio does — through experience, not theory.

The Mature Game

The mistake most people make early in the points hobby is treating it as an accumulation contest. The goal becomes the balance — the screenshot of a million miles, the feeling that you've stockpiled enough to do something extraordinary someday. But points are not an asset class. They depreciate constantly. Programs devalue. Charts change. The purchasing power of a mile or a point trends toward zero over any long enough time horizon.

The mature game is deployment, not accumulation. Earn with a plan. Hold only when you have a specific reason to wait. Transfer at the right moment, not speculatively. And be honest about which programs give you joy and which ones are just noise in the portfolio.

I have fewer programs than I used to. I earn more deliberately. I redeem faster. And the trips that result — the Hyatt stays, the Alaska partner flights, the Hilton certificate plays — feel less like arbitrage and more like a travel life I've intentionally built.

That's what the portfolio is for. Not maximum theoretical value. A life that moves well.