Day 11: June 3rd, 2026
States Hiked: Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts (11 total so far)
Trails Hiked: Two Lights State Park, Methuen Trail
Distance Hiked: 2.2 miles, 4.4 miles
Elevation Gain: 161 ft. elev. gain, 49 ft. elev. gain
Cumulative Wander: 75 miles
Duration: 48m, 1h 22m
In retrospect, doing Vermont and Maine this early in the Wander was a mistake.
I've probably said that already, but I wrote those other posts, like, days ago. And when someone quotes something I said back at me, I'm always like, "who said that? Where'd you get that from?" By then, I've hiked another seventeen trails already and forgotten where I was.
Other states just gotta suffer in the ratings as a consequence. I'm sure they're devastated that some meandering queer that made a ranking system of the Sparks they stayed in didn't regard their states as highly as others. A wanderloon's gotta dream...
Two Lights State Park, once again reminding me that Maine is wonderful but Minnesota trounces it in the State Parks department (if only I'd made a ranking system of those...), was perfectly adequate for a park equal to the size of a welcome center in one of ours. The ninth and penultimate Maine lighthouse on the tour gave as much room for hiking as it did idling in the parking lot and contemplating the difference between "sand roads" and "subtle vengeance on my ex that referred to my lifestyle as 'homeless lite' but that's not important right now."
The lighthouse itself was separated from the hiking trail (all mile of it!), and like many New England hikes, I wandered up a narrow road and found out just how committed to "leave no trace" I was when another oversized SUV piloted by a texting driver came around a curve.
Two Lights ended up being the last lighthouse at which I physically walked, because when I got to the town of the Nubble and saw that the population looked like Gooseberry Falls if July 4th fell on a Saturday and the weather was perfect, I opted to nope the fuck outta there and retain some semblance of my ability to Human.
Then I dealt with the 495 on my way to Connecticut and realized my inner Sartre would never fully be silenced.
But hey, there was a GeoArt stop on the 93, and it was only a six-mile divergence, so that's almost like hiking, right?
After pacing at the rest stop while people sat in their camping chairs in a parking lot but looked at me like I was the weird one, I realized that this wouldn't count for Massachusetts because arbitrary colonial technicalities. The closest town in Massachusetts was Methuen, and there was a four-mile out-and-back rail trail. Perfect.
I swear, everyone on that trail looked at me like I offended their existence by daring to walk there while breathing. I've officially lived in Minnesota too long. It used to be "gods, everyone is so nice out here in Minnesota." Now it's "holy shit, everyone out here's such a dick!" It took a decade, but Minnesota Nice has become my new normal, whereas the angry collective yelling of the East Coast is now the new weird.
I'll turn in my "East Coast Gives No Fucks" card momentarily.
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