The backstory: the local state park has three mountains in it, or at least there are three things that are called mountains.
[Note: this led me to a fascinating look at the difference between hills and mountains, which is far more vague than I expected. None of these three land-forms are higher than 2000 feet, but they are sort of steep, and apparently you can pretty much call something a mountain if you want, so why not?]
Anyway, so there’s three mountains. One of them is the popular one — it’s got an interesting summit with nice views, and plenty of space for people to spread out at the top and have a snack. Plus, there’s a fire tower — what’s not to love?
Then there’s the tallest one — no real summit to speak of, but it gets the glow of being the tallest. And the trail is cool.
And then there’s the one in the middle. The shortest one. No loop trail, just up and back. But I’d never been up it, so out I went on Sunday, headed for the middle mountain.
AND IT WAS AMAZING. I was both surprised and delighted. The selfie I took at the top did not manage to capture my ‘I was not expecting this, can you believe it’ sensation. The trail sort of meandered around before suddenly dropping me off at a beautiful grassy summit with a super-nice view of the surrounding park. (I mean, only in one direction, but that direction was excellent!)
Mirrored from The Marci Rating System.