Epic Hikes of Washington State - Mt. Pleasant

Mount Pleasant

Date Hiked: August 10th, 2025

Trail Hiked: Mount Pleasant, Washington DNR Trail Systems

Distance Hiked: 8.1 miles

Elevation Gain: 1969 ft. 

Duration: 3h 22m

Mt. Sinai being the first mountain I truly ever hiked to the summit may have spoiled me in some ways.

Not that it was an easy haul to the top, it most certainly was not, even for someone in the shape for hiking such things as I was, but it's not readily apparent how much switchbacks and resting points make a difference in such a climb until one doesn't have them available. 

Mt. Sinai was a well-manicured and maintained trail that was easy to follow, meted out the elevation gain, and was clearly designed for hikers to traverse. 

Mt. Pleasant was a small mountain surrounded by the Olympics in their grandeur, it barely had a trail access point unless one specifically knew exactly where to look, and rather than a trail, it was more like a dirt road that happened to be on a mountain somewhere. 

In other words, it was designed for logging trucks to drive on, not so much for hikers to make an ascent, and good gods did it show. 

Up on the Olympic peninsula, it was easy to be intimidated by the rugged nature of the jagged peaks. While still confident from my Sinai hike that I was getting to the point that I could make these treks, I wanted to work myself up and keep trying to steadily improve, so when I saw Mt. Pleasant in the app being a solid 1900 feet rather than some that were in the 4 and 5k gains, I thought a steady climb with a good view at the end would be the kind of hike that might not be as impressive as others nearby, but a good stepping off point for future, more difficult journeys. 

Instead, I got a lesson on switchback efficacy, as ere stated.

Sometimes, solitude on the trail is a blessing for which I'm endlessly grateful, but others, it's an indicator of not doing enough research on my part. This was one of the latter examples, as looking into what others said about it would've given me enough information to reconsider. 

I still did it, but it was not as pleasant as the name would imply. 

The grade was intense, with nothing but my own switchback-ish abatement of the rise to lessen the impact on my knees. Even with much taller peaks surrounding me in several directions, this felt like getting my penance for making terrible decisions at a time in my life where my impulsivity was overriding my common sense and the pained soul in which I inhabited caused me to believe that opting out and trying something else was some indication of a character flaw and personal failure. 

I saw two other people the entire time, and they were on motorbikes. On a beautiful day like this, the lack of other hikers was not a coincidence or stroke of luck. This climbed sucked.

The view at the end was the only part that made this trek worth it. Otherwise, just pick another trail.

The Great Wander of 2026 - Day 9

 

The Great Wander of 2026

Day 9: June 1st, 2026

States Hiked: Maine (10 total so far)

Trails Hiked: Portland Head Light, Pemaquid Point, Marshall Point, Owl's Head

Distance Hiked: 1.7 miles, 2.4 miles, .3 miles, 1.0 miles

Elevation Gain: 105 ft., 112 ft., 7 ft., 56 ft. 

Cumulative Wander: 65.3 miles

Duration: 39m, 47m, 9m, 22m

Day 8

Day 7

Day 6, Part 2

Day 6, Part 1

Day 5

Day 4

Day 3

Day 2

Day 1

Once you give me an Adventure Lab that involves a special interest, it's gonna be very hard for me not to do it. 

Even when the farthest stop is four hours away. 

The Adventure Lab was Lighthouses of Maine, and while a wander is usually entirely random when it comes to locations, I was thrilled to know how many places along the coast I'd get to see, not to mention photograph. 

I recognize that none of these hikes are particularly long or impressive, but you don't understand how long I had to drive just to get to them unless you've ever navigated Maine north of Portland...

Starting at the Portland Head Light was an easy choice, and I couldn't have picked a more beautiful day to do so. After seeing it in the distance from the breakwater the night ere, it looked like the postcard image of what one imagines when they think of a lighthouse. But, it was nice weather in June in Maine, so I didn't stick around too long after completing the stop for the Adventure Lab, though I managed to snap the above photo before heading out, and I think it might be the best photograph I've ever taken. 

Pemaquid Point was next, and that park wasn't much less busy, though it look quite a while to get to. The person working the parking hut had a lovely conversation with me for several minutes in a thick New York accent, and it was delightful. The hiking situation, conversely, was not. 

In order to even get the resemblance of a hike out of Pemaquid Point, I had to wander down the narrow-ass roads of the surrounding area with houses that brought the word "proletariat" to mind on a frequent basis. The lilacs were in bloom, which at least provided some additional joy to the adventure, but by 2.4 miles, it was either head to the next one or traverse down another remote road for not much payoff. 

Marshall Point showed up as 13 miles away on the Adventure Lab app, but it showed that it would take 90 minutes to get there. Many of these are on remote inlets on the coast, which means heading the whole way back up them and then back out to the next, and unless one is directly on the 95, we're talking mostly two-lane roads that slow to 30mph through every town. 

The extent of hiking possibilities at the remote ass Marshall Point were limited to a small jaunt through the woods that came back around to the parking lot, and I didn't even bother trying to extend that. 

Owl's Head was at a state park, which seemed promising. The lighthouse has a long staircase to reach, and I watched a woman trying to back up her stroller and small child on it, all while Chad the Cargo Shorts Chody Rhodes stood there watching while not doing a damn thing. That's when I decided I'd seen enough for the day.

The Great Wander of 2026 - Day 8

The Great Wander of 2026

Day 8: May 31st, 2026

States Hiked: Maine (10 total so far)

Trails Hiked: Greenbelt, Bug Light, Fort Preble and Spring Point

Distance Hiked: 4.5 miles, 4.7 miles

Elevation Gain: 39 ft, 167 ft.

Cumulative Wander: 59.9 miles

Duration: 1h 28m, 1h 37m

Day 7

Day 6, Part 2

Day 6, Part 1

Day 5

Day 4

Day 3

Day 2

Day 1

When one imagines New England, perhaps they think that cutting to and from any state must not take very long, given their relative proximity as compared to the western half of the country. 

Yet, to cut from Burlington, Vermont to South Portland, Maine took over four hours, and not just because of the backup on the roads infinitely tolled, thus causing me to use the US-1 and unexpectedly cut through one of the gayest small towns I've ever seen in Ogunquit. Upon arrival though, I found myself in a familiar position: having spent all day traveling and swearing to myself this would be my day off from hiking, but then getting back out on the trail within an hour of arrival and unpacking.

It's who I am as a person, for better and worse. 

Perhaps that's why, despite looming ominous clouds in the distance, I thought it prudent to get out somewhere near the hotel and at least get a few miles in. That, and I was anxious to get my 10th state checked off the goal list. Thank goodness I remembered to take a poncho, and since I was solo, I didn't feel bad about ripping it out like the time I got soaked like a drowned rat walking 13 miles on the Red Cedar trail in Wisconsin. Still a brilliant idea that was, Lauren. 

The Eastern trail traverses southeastern Maine, and I thought starting somewhere nearby and going ten miles round trip to Bug Light would not only satiate my wandering desire, but put me over the edge to 1000 miles for the year. 

As soon as I heard the first bit of rolling thunder (no RVD) I regretted that decision. 

I'd gotten about two miles down the trail when the winds became too obvious to ignore. This one wasn't staying out in the ocean, and I had only minutes to prepare. With the poncho on over my pack and heading double quick back to the parking lot, only the canopied tree cover provided me any reprieve from the Atlantic Ocean's stormy fury. Yet, when compared to the summit of Camel's Hump, it didn't seem half bad. Everything's relative. 

It passed by the time I got back to the parking lot, so I headed to Bug Light anyway. Despite the comparable proximity, I did not see Chris Jericho and the Young Bucks plotting a trios name. Instead, I enjoyed the quiet post-storm evening between the two lighthouses, abandoned fort, and oceanic sounds of solace.

Hopping along breakwaters to stand next to them, I was nonetheless awed by the beam shining in the distance. Tomorrow, I thought, that would have to be my first stop. It looked legendary.

I'd only visited Portland ere once, and for less than a day, but at the time I described it as "If Instagram were a town." That was a decade prior when that actually meant something, but it still felt affectionately appropriate for that era. Not for Meta, never anything for Meta.

The Great Wander of 2026 - Day 7

The Great Wander of 2026

Day 7: May 30th, 2026

States Hiked: New Hampshire, Vermont (9 total so far)

Trails Hiked: Burnt Mountain, Kent's Ledge, Burlington Waterfront

Distance Hiked: 3.0 miles, 4.6 miles, 4.7 miles

Elevation Gain: 358 ft, 1040 ft., 167 ft.

Cumulative Wander: 50.7 miles

Duration: 1h 20m, 2h 11m, 1h 37m

Day 6, Part 2

Day 6, Part 1

Day 5

Day 4

Day 3

Day 2

Day 1

The first stop of the day was getting my New Hampshire state count. I planned to put in more miles than that, but... Well, I'll just let my AllTrails review speak for itself on that one. "You might enjoy this trail either if you've always wanted to know what it's like to hike up a cascading creek, or if you're a particularly ambitious frog." 

The third stop of the day was the Burlington waterfront, which was mostly because I'd done it years ago before I was a hiker and I wanted to see if it hit the same. It did, it's lovely. 

But this post was always going to be about Star's Hollow. 

If the entire wandering vacation had been about visiting this place and nowhere else, I still would not have considered it a waste. 

This may not mean anything to you if you don't start Gilmore Girls over from the beginning every autumn, but once Carole King's voice comes over those credits, there sits this idyllic New England town of Star's Hollow. While based on Washington Depot, Connecticut, it's visually represented by South Royalton, Vermont. 

I needed an excuse to go there beyond my vague kinship with Rory Gilmore as a social outsider who immersed themselves with the Ivy League trust fund kinds for four years, so I hiked up Kent's Ledge first. Maybe I was hoping the hill would present a good opportunity for a credits-like shot of the town, but I didn't have a budget and professional cameras. I knew full well the highway blocked out the angle from the credits, but it was worth a shot anyway. Maybe people only said that because they didn't feel like hiking up a 1000-foot hill first. No such luck.

Kent's Ledge is said 1000-foot hill, and probably abused my calves more with my alpine tundra decisions only the day ere, but alas. The entire climb builds up to a couple rocks the size of a living room overlooking the other side of the valley, and a friendly doggo ran up, and oh gosh when the humans attached to those dogs apologize to me for the best part of my day... 

This one had moved there from Minneapolis though. What are those odds?

The view was fine. Everything was fine. But then I descended into town, a population of which would've been scary in most states, but this is Vermont. Coffee shop, super gay. A town square like Star's Hollow sat dead center, but two gazebos adorned all the conversations about Dean-like creatures, appropriately. I grabbed a burger at the place next to the railroad tracks, Worthy Burger. The people were quirky and wonderful, it was the best burger I ever had in my life, the fries were great, the locally-bottled soda was amazing, and the 11-dollar coffee stout was worth every cent. 

In other words, this place was a perfect stand-in for "what if Twin Peaks but mostly nice things happened instead of rampant tulpa head blowy-uppy shenanigans?" 

The Great Wander of 2026 - Day 6 - Part 2

 

Day 6, Part 1

Day 5

Day 4

Day 3

Day 2

Day 1

NOTE: My self-imposed rule for travel essays is 500 words exactly, no more, no less. But Camel's Hump deserves two essays, so here we are. 

The air felt heavier with moisture. The trees were thinning, the sounds were more distant, and rumbling of thunder far off threatened with its ominous echo against the rocks. On the other hand, when would I get this opportunity again? 

Near the summit, a lovely person and their dog warned me of how windy it was up there, to the point that it scared the poor little doggo. 

I should've listened. Moreso, I should've noted that even this person was taking the out-and-back. Now I know. 

What I later learned is called alpine tundra, an exceptionally rare landscape of terrain and flora, the ending of the trees gave way to massive rocks, unique moss, and absolutely no protection from the wind that would've made Gordon Lightfoot reconsider a few choice lyrics. Even having stood through Minnesota winters on the Big Lake, nothing prepared me for these gales though. 

Pulling out the camera I lugged along for this trip, my priorities quickly shifted to practicality and speed. These were no normal wind gusts, they were consistent, frigid, and made stability at any point an extreme difficulty. The photograph above does not capture the ferocity of these conditions, but it might be the one of which I'm most proud on this journey. 

The views were stunning, and that word undersells how incredible they were, even with the dreary conditions surrounding me. Different pockets of rain were intermittent throughout the panorama of visibility, a sign that I should not spend too much time getting back down. Oh, the folly of my decision to not do the out-and-back. "It's a mile longer," I said. "How much harder could it be?" I said. I should stop saying shit sometimes.

Then there were the signs about how fragile the flora on this peak are. Alpine tundra, as ere noted, is exceptionally rare, and Camel's Hump's peak is an example of this type of terrain. The second part of the "fragile plant life" sign directed hikers to "stay on the rocks." The white blazes were a guide, as tends to be the case on trails such as this. But, "staying on the rocks" turned out to be a significantly more difficult task than anticipated. 

Fortunately my bare arms were regaining feeling as I once again became submerged in the tree line. How they even got white blazes on some of these rock patterns is beyond me, but it no longer felt like a trail. Thank the gods I took my trekking poles for this one. Aids for joint impact on the ascent notwithstanding, having two extra posts of stability and reach is probably the only reason I completed this descent unscathed. 

The rocks were massive, and sometimes the descent required extension of 5-6 feet just to reach a stable landing point on the drop. Even still, some of these drops I could only drop to my ass and slide down out of fear for not being able to reach them adequately. 

5 hours. 6.7 miles. Yep. 

The Great Wander of 2026 - Day 6 - Part 1

The Great Wander of 2026

Day 6: May 29th, 2026

States Hiked: Vermont (8 total so far)

Trails Hiked: Camel's Hump via Forest City, Long, and Burrows Trail

Distance Hiked: 6.7 miles

Elevation Gain: 2536 ft

Cumulative Wander: 38.4 miles

Duration: 5h 8m

Day 5

Day 4

Day 3

Day 2

Day 1

Now this was a fucking hike. 

I hadn't been to Vermont since 2017, and shall we say, my previous visits were not of the pursuit of hiking. That said though, memories of staying at a ski resort in May at a place with zen concepts instead of room numbers, lobby puppers, musical instruments, and a ski mountain free of tourists were prominent in my mind as I prepared to go on an adventure. This was why I'd opted for limited tracks until this point. I wanted to get out and do a real mountain. Not an Iron Range mountain, not a Mississippi Bluff, not even a delightful rock staircase in Wisconsin, I wanted to traverse a real mountain as I'd done with seven others in the summer of 2025. 

Though it was cheating on the concept of a wander a bit, I googled what the best mountain hikes in Vermont were, but I had a purpose in mind. I happened upon some discussion, where many contributors were saying that X and Y were good, family friendly, accessible, and wouldn't be too difficult, whereas Burrows would use muscles you didn't know you had. The one they were avoiding, Burrows: that was what I craved.

I checked the weather. Thunderstorms were possible later in the afternoon, which with summers on the east coast is practically an obvious consideration. Therefore, I found my destination as soon as I could, though perhaps I should've given a few extra seconds of thought to not wear a tanktop. Spoiler for later.

Nearly immediately, the trail reminded me of Cougar Mountain and other places in the Pacific Northwest that I hadn't visited since my summer in Washington. It may sound silly, but while the aesthetic was nearly identical, it somehow felt... older. Which, in the strictest of geological senses, is accurate, but still, this place felt ancient in grandeur and respect of the environment. I was captivated by its awestruck imposition. 

Vermont hikers are on a different level, though I did question my decision to do a longer, more difficult loop while seeing so many descending on the out-and-back. I should've listened. While strapped in with my hiking pack, covered in bug spray, leg strings clenched, and extra water stowed, many of the descending parties were in shorts with no supplies at all, much to my surprise and respect. The most badass of all though was a young woman coming down this slick, muddy, rocky trail with a very small baby strapped to her chest. What impressed me most about them as a whole? All of them followed trail code. All of them were extremely nice, not Minnesota Nice. All of them seemed sincere, and even I, the mountain recluse, stopped for several lovely conversations. 

The mud was deep, slippery, and abundant with puddles. The rocks invoked dry spot hopscotch, but weren't exactly arid. The inclines got more intense and the air felt like rain. By contrast to later, this would seem a stroll in the woods. 

The Great Wander of 2026 - Day 5

The Great Wander of 2026

Day 5: May 28th, 2026

States Hiked: New York, Vermont (8 total so far)

Trails Hiked: Capital Area Regional Welcome Center, Crown Point Trail

Distance Hiked: 1.0 miles, 4.6 miles

Elevation Gain: 227 ft

Cumulative Wander: 31.7 miles

Duration: 20m, 1h 33m

Day 4

Day 3

Day 2

Day 1

I really, really didn't want to get out of the car for a while. 

The skies looked ominous, I wasn't eager to go out in Pennsylvania again with my return imminent, and memories of the last time I headed northeast in the state didn't exactly endear me to traveling there. Former friends who turned out to be liars at the most critical of times, an unfortunate incident at an Arby's, and a lack of any affinity for that show that took place in Scranton, my energy was lacking after sitting through an entire live wrestling show for the first time in a solid 10 years. 

Also the skies grew even more ominous as my trip approached New York. What kind of fraud was I to at least get some steps in at a freaking rest stop with an Adventure Lab? One who sat in traffic near Schenectady and thought, as the opening of Tin Cup would so eloquently remind us, "a little bit is better than nada." And, perhaps, a great philosopher would also proclaim, "sometimes you want the whole enchilada." 

My travels continued into the Adirondacks, and I'm pretty sure I missed the appropriate turn-off to head into Vermont, but the wonderful thing about a wander is that there are no accidental turns when there is no destination. That is precisely what led to my choice of hiking location, albeit on the second attempt. 

The first was a wander up near Ticonderoga, depressing as that area was to drive through unfortunately. The idea of adding a mountain to the wander statistics list was indeed endearing, but the mountain apparently closed at 4:30, as mountains are wont to do. The rocks are always changing, and sometimes a jiggy jaggy hilly boi needs a nappy around the same time as the rowdy folx start storming the Golden Corral for the early bird special. Tale as old as time, song as old as the whole enchilada. 

If there's one thing that can get me to turn around on a dime and go back because I need to go climb it, it is a majestic bridge I've never seen before.

Okay, it's not the one thing. See also: lighthouse, a loon calling, a goth in fishnet, Timeless Toni Storm. 

The sun was near set, a lighthouse was off to the right (so it was a two-fer), and I didn't see a single other person on the bridge or the lovely rustic journey along the ancient fort to the side. Plus, for the second time on this trip, I knocked another state off the list by crossing a bridge and raising the technicality flag for such joyous exploitation of colonial lines and their arbitrary tendencies to accumulate on lists such as this one. 

There were geocaches, there were giant stones that men decorated the hills with, and there was a trail that descended into buggy madness. Not all wandering hikes are glorious, sometimes they're just vague specificities to fit a certain absurd need.