Bradbury Mountain has always been one of those trails that feels like a breath of fresh air—quick, easy, and rewarding. Tucked away in Pownal, Maine, this 1.4-mile loop may not be the tallest peak, but it offers just enough elevation to feel like you’ve earned the view. It’s an easygoing trail, perfect for a laid-back morning or an afternoon escape, with well-marked paths that make it nearly impossible to get lost.
What I love about Bradbury is how welcoming it is. Families, solo hikers, trail runners, and birdwatchers all find their space here. The park itself is well-maintained, complete with picnic tables, a playground, and even campsites for those wanting to stretch their visit a little longer. You can take the gradual Northern Loop for a smooth, meandering climb or push straight up the Summit Trail—a short but steep 0.3-mile ascent that wakes up the legs in the best way.
Reaching the top always feels like a small victory, even on an easy trail. The view stretches beyond the trees, with glimpses of nearby towns in the distance. It’s also a prime spot for hawk and falcon sightings, making it a favorite for birdwatchers. No matter how many times I visit, there’s something grounding about standing at the summit, taking it all in before heading back down.
One of the best things about Bradbury Mountain is that it’s accessible year-round. Whether you’re hiking, walking, or snowshoeing, the trails are always open, shifting with the seasons but never losing their charm. I’ve been here multiple times, and each visit has left its own imprint—some quiet and reflective, others filled with the laughter of good company.
This time, it was early March. Winter still had its grip on Maine, the air crisp with that lingering cold that refuses to let go. We decided on the Northern Loop Trail, a 1.4-mile route that starts at the Summit Trail right near the parking lot. The first 0.2 miles to the summit is where you’ll feel the most elevation gain—a short but telling climb, the kind that reminds you just how much winter has softened your legs.
The trail was mostly clear, with just enough mud and ice to keep things interesting. Leaves from last fall were scattered across the path, crunching underfoot, while the trees stood bare, their skeletal branches reaching toward the overcast sky. Winter wasn’t quite done yet, but there was a shift in the air—a subtle promise that spring wasn’t too far off.
The climb to the summit was quick—one of those hikes where you find a rhythm, watching your feet on the uneven ground while still stealing glances at the world around you. The air was crisp, the kind that wakes you up in the best way, and the conversation was easy, flowing as naturally as the trail itself.
When we reached the top, it was quiet. Just a few others were scattered around, making it easy to find a spot to settle in. We sat for a while, letting the stillness sink in, breathing deep, and soaking in the kind of fresh air that clears your head. The view stretched before us—a mix of bare branches and steadfast pines, all under a heavy gray sky that made the landscape feel both endless and intimate at the same time.
The trail was short, so on the way down, we slowed our pace, letting the quiet of the woods settle around us. On this side of the loop, winter still held on tight. Ice clung to the edges of the trail, frozen icicles dripped from stone steps and cliff sides, and the streams had stilled into intricate, glass-like patterns. Each detail invited me to pause, to take a closer look at the way winter presses pause on the world, holding everything in its quiet grasp.
A frozen moment. A gentle reminder that stillness has its own kind of beauty. That sometimes, the world doesn’t need to move fast to be full of life.
As we made our way back to the car, I thought about how different this trail feels with each season. I’ve hiked it in the warmth of summer, under golden autumn leaves, but today, winter held it still—a quiet, frozen kind of magic that I was grateful to witness.
Reflections from the Trail
There’s something about revisiting a familiar trail that feels like catching up with an old friend—comforting, yet always revealing something new. Bradbury Mountain has been a steady presence in my hiking journey, shifting with the seasons but never losing its charm. This time, winter had draped it in stillness, holding everything in a quiet embrace.
I’ve stood at this summit before, under the heat of the summer sun, beneath the fiery glow of autumn leaves. But in this moment—surrounded by bare trees, icy streams, and the muted grays of an overcast sky—it felt different. There was no rush to move, no urgency to chase the next mile. Just stillness. Just presence.
Winter has a way of slowing things down, of pressing pause when the world so often tells us to keep moving. And as I walked down the trail, I let that lesson sink in. Not every adventure has to be grand. Not every hike has to be a challenge. Sometimes, the beauty is in the simplicity—a quiet trail, a cold breath, the crunch of leaves underfoot.
I left Bradbury that day feeling lighter, more grounded. Reminded that even in the stillness, there is movement. Even in the quiet, there is something to be heard.
Do you have any hiking trails you’d recommend? I’d love to hear your suggestions!
I’d love to hear your recommendations for my next hiking adventure! Feel free to reach out to me through my social media links below or shoot me an email at hellopeaceofmindy@gmail.com. Let’s connect and share trail ideas!
All the photos featured in this blog post were taken by me, unless otherwise noted.
