I’ve always had a hankering to hike the highest peaks. In the Northeast, those iconic summits include Mount Washington in New Hampshire, Mount Marcy in New York, Mount Greylock in Massachusetts, Mount Katahdin in Maine, and Mount Mansfield in Vermont. I remember each of these mountaintops well, especially Mount Mansfield. My earliest memory skiing in Vermont was at a junior race on Mount Mansfield at the Stowe Mountain Resort on the east side of the mountain when I was 13 years old. Since then, I’ve made countless runs down Stowe’s legendary trails, like Nose Dive and National, but it took another 30 years before I had the chance to stand on the summit. The ski area does not go to the top.

In 2004, while working on my first hiking guidebook, Best Hikes with Dogs: New Hampshire and Vermont, I called one of my hiking pals, Lucinda, in Shelburne, Vermont, to get her opinion on the best way to hike up Mount Mansfield. The mountain can be approached from the north and east via the Long Trail, the north via the Hellbrook Trail, and the west by the Sunset Ridge, Laura Cowles, and Maple Ridge Trails. You can hike up a ski run to the Cliff House, the top terminal of the ski area’s highest gondola, then continue to the summit on the Cliff Trail. Or you can drive up the Toll Road to The Nose, then hike the last 2.4 miles to The Chin, the true summit of Mansfield. When viewed from the side, Mount Mansfield has the profile of a giant’s face, lying with The Forehead to the south and The Adam’s Apple to the north.

Without hesitation, Lucinda suggested going up the Sunset Ridge Trail, which starts at Underhill State Park. “It’s my favorite way up the mountain,” she insisted. “The views are fantastic all the way up the ridge, and it’s dog-friendly.”

Sunset Ridge Trail

On the appointed day, we met at Underhill State Park and began our 3.4-mile climb. Just after halfway and still below the tree line, Lucinda led me on a short detour to see Cantilever Rock, a long, narrow rock that jabs an astounding 25 feet from the top of a cliff into the air parallel to the ground. Left behind 10,000 years ago when the last ice age receded, it seems to defy gravity, but I dared not stand directly under it, nor could I take my eyes off it. “Don’t worry. It’s not going to land on you,” teased Lucinda. “If it has lasted this long, it probably won’t fall today.”

We continued upward, passing two boulders that were likely one larger boulder many years ago. A stream flowed from the matching walls of the crack between them. A short while later, we passed a cave with another stream flowing out of it. Here we had a choice: walk through the cave but get our feet wet or go around it. We opted for dry feet.

Soon after the cave, we broke from the trees onto the exposed slabby Sunset Ridge. The Chin was above us. We paused to take in the expansive views of the Adirondacks behind us and the west side of the chain of Green Mountains to our left and right. The panorama was so spectacular that the ridge could have been a destination in its own right, but the summit called to us. We kept going, eventually turning north on the Long Trail for the final stretch to the summit.

The Long Trail winds 272 miles from the Massachusetts border to the Canadian border along the spine of the Green Mountains. Mount Mansfield is certainly one of the highlights of the Long Trail with its expansive 250-acre alpine zone, by far the largest patch of alpine tundra in Vermont. It was a gorgeous day, clear and free of haze. As we walked on the slabby trail past mountain sandwort, endangered diapensia, and shrubby Labrador tea, we could see into Canada to the north, the Worcester Range across the Stowe Valley, and much farther to the White Mountains in New Hampshire to the east. Lake Champlain, framed by the High Peaks region of the Adirondacks, glistened to the west. It felt good to stand on the top of Vermont, 4,395 feet above sea level.

Long Trail South

The next time I climbed Mount Mansfield, I was working on another guidebook, Hiking the Green Mountains. I decided to ascend the mountain via the Long Trail from Smugglers’ Notch because it was a relatively short route, only 2.3 miles to The Chin, and I needed to check it out for the book.

Mileage can be deceiving. The route climbed 2,800 feet! The trail felt vertical from the first step. Leaving the trailhead, it was fairly smooth underfoot, crossing a number of seasonal streams, then it turned to slab and chunks of ledge. Luckily, it was a dry day, so the rock was grippy, not slippery. A half mile from the top, I stopped at Taft Lodge, a hikers’ shelter that’s available first-come, first-served. No one was there.

Just beyond Taft Lodge, the Profanity Trail departed to the left. For through-hikers on the Long Trail, this is the summit to bypass in case of bad weather, perhaps so named because of the foul language that one might utter for missing the chance to stand atop this famous mountain after the steep climb to get there.

My day was fair, so I continued upward, taking in the view. A little farther up the rough trail I could see ski trails and the summit ridge. Then the Worcester Range and the White Mountains came into view. There was a short reprieve, then more scrambling up boulders and bedrock. I finally reached The Chin, ate lunch, and steeled myself for the steep descent.

When I reached my car, I was exhausted physically from the exertion of the climb and mentally from navigating ledge after ledge, yet I was also elated for the chance to stand atop Vermont again. It had been a challenging way up, but worth every step.

Cliff Trail

Since ascending via the Long Trail, I had hiked up Mount Mansfield a number of times, exploring each of its routes, but one remained on my to-do list: the Cliff Trail. Last June I finally got the chance while in Stowe for a reunion of pro ski racers. One of the planned activities was a gondola ride to the Cliff House for a jaw-dropping view and an adult beverage in the bar.

“Anyone want to hike up instead of riding the gondola?” I asked the posse of former athletes, who were now in their 60s and 70s. There were no takers. Undeterred, I parked my car at the base of the gondola, donned my pack and hiking boots, and trekked up a gravel work road that doubled as a hiking trail during the summer. It followed the gondola, zigzagging 2.8 miles up the ski trails Gondolier and Perry Merrill. When I reached the Cliff House, a few of the former ski racers were just returning from the summit. After riding up the gondola, they decided to hike the last 1.3 miles to the top. “It’s steep,” said one racer. “It’s more of a rock climb,” said another. “Go for it!” urged a third. “You’re half mountain goat.”

Given my desire to explore and ongoing need to stand on top of mountains, I departed the Cliff House for the summit. It was rough from the start and near vertical up a rock pile. I stopped to wait for several people who struggled up a narrow rock wall then through a “keyhole,” a short rock passage formed by several large boulders that had wedged themselves into a rough-hewn window.

My turn. I started up the rocks, which would normally have been a fun challenge, but this was not a normal day for me. Nursing a dislocated finger on my left hand, I couldn’t grip the rock securely, and torn cartilage in my right knee—an old ski injury—prevented me from fully bending my knee, a move I needed to make to get through the keyhole. Surprised and disappointed by my physical snafus, I turned back. It was the first time that one of my summit quests had been foiled, but Mansfield’s giant was not keen to have me on his chin that day.

Mount Mansfield is a hulk of a mountain that’s not particularly long as a hike, but it’s no gimme. It’s the highest summit in Vermont, and like all big mountains, sometimes it’s welcoming and sometimes it’s not. As my hand and knee heal, I’ll try to ascend via the Cliff Trail again. There are many interesting ways to reach the top of this landmark peak, and for this avid hiker, it doesn’t feel right to leave one undone.

For More Information

Hiking the Green Mountains, 3rd Edition (FalconGuides, 2022)

The Green Mountain Club: greenmountainclub.org