I’ve ridden it. I’ve hiked it. I’ve driven it in a storm (not my best idea). Appalachian Gap—locals call it “App Gap”—keeps pulling me back. It’s a mountain pass on Route 17 in Vermont, right between Mad River Glen and Sugarbush. The road twists, the views pop, and the wind at the top has a mind of its own. For the full breakdown of every sweaty, windy moment, check out my expanded ride report on Appalachian Gap.
You know what? I still get butterflies when I see that last bend near the summit.
The quick take
- It’s a tough climb by bike and a beautiful drive by car.
- The Long Trail crosses right at the top, so hiking is easy to start.
- Weekends feel busy; weekdays feel calm.
- I loved the views and the vibe. I didn’t love the tight shoulders and loose gravel.
Let me explain.
Why I went (and why I keep going)
The first time, I went in late September for leaf season. I pedaled up from Waitsfield on a chilly morning. My water bottle froze a little at the top. I still laughed out loud when the trees opened and I could see the Adirondacks out west. I went back in June for a sunset drive. Then again in March when the road was slick and the wind cut right through my jacket. I guess I like a little drama.
Riding the Gap: Legs, lungs, and a nice maple reward
I’ve climbed both sides by bike. The east side from Waitsfield hits hard near the top. If you’re looking for the full breakdown—grade chart, elevation plot, and some pro tips—check out the App Gap East climb profile; it’ll tell you exactly why that last kilometer hurts so good. My computer flashed 12% on that last left-hand bend. I was in my lightest gear and still stood up to keep moving. A pickup gave me space (thank you, stranger), and I just kept my line.
Real moments:
- July ride, 7 a.m.: I ate a banana at the stone wall by the pull-off at the summit, then put on a wind vest for the drop.
- Leaf season: I got stuck behind a line of cars on the descent. No big deal. I took it slow and waved at a rider coming up.
- After a humid August climb: I went straight to Canteen Creemee Co. in Waitsfield for a maple creemee. Sticky hands, happy heart.
The west side toward Bristol is smoother for me. The bends feel more open, but you still need to watch your speed. Gravel sits in the shade after rain. I’ve slid a little. It wakes you right up.
Hiking from the top: Easy start, real sweat
There’s a small pull-off right at the top with a brown Long Trail sign. I tossed a granola bar in my pocket and went south on a cool October afternoon. The trail climbs fast but it’s fun—roots, rocks, and a few spots where you need your hands. I reached the ridge, felt that big ridge wind, and stared forever. On a clear day, you can spot Lake Champlain. It looks like a silver ribbon. There’s even a crowd-sourced photo spot mapped on Komoot that pinpoints the best angle if you’re chasing that postcard shot. If you're wondering what actually earns a spot in my pack on days like this, I detailed every item in my mock thru-hike gear list over here: what I actually carried and used.
Winter note: I’ve hiked a short out-and-back with microspikes in January. It was icy. The woods were silent. I turned around sooner than planned because the light dropped fast and my fingers felt numb. No shame in that.
Driving it: Pretty, but don’t get cute
I’ve done the evening cruise a few times. Sunset throws pink light on the valley. It’s lovely. But the shoulders are narrow, and the corners come quick. On one March night, black ice snuck up on me near the last switchback. My dash flashed, my tires chattered, and my stomach did a flip. I kept it smooth and eased through. Lesson learned: slow is smart here.
Weekends bring bikes, motorcycles, and sports cars. I give space and skip risky passes. It’s a shared road, not a racetrack.
The good stuff I keep coming back for
- That “whoa” view near the top, both sides.
- The feeling of earning it by bike, then floating down.
- Quick access to the Long Trail from a paved road.
- Simple parking and a clear trailhead sign at the summit.
- Food and treats nearby: Lawson’s for a beer, Mad Taco for a burrito, and, yes, maple creemees.
On my non-climbing days, I trade mountain grades for smooth greens by lining up a tee time at Prairie Bluff, which keeps the stoke alive without torching my quads.
After a long day on the Gap, some riders swap stories over beer while others look for a little grown-up connection beyond trail talk. If you fall into the latter camp, the no-nonsense advice in this sex-hookup guide can point you toward safe, respectful ways to meet like-minded adults. It covers everything from setting clear boundaries to choosing the right app, so you spend less time scrolling and more time enjoying the après-ride glow.
Heading west for a weekend loop? If your travels take you across the state line and land you in Elmira for a night—maybe before tackling the Finger Lakes routes—consider browsing Listcrawler Elmira to see up-to-date, user-reviewed listings that make arranging a consensual, low-pressure meetup straightforward and discreet.
The parts that bugged me (but didn’t ruin it)
- Narrow shoulders. You need to ride clean and steady.
- Loose gravel hides in shade after rain.
- Cell service drops at the top for me sometimes.
- Weekend traffic can be heavy during foliage and holiday weeks.
- Wind at the summit can feel like it’s pushing you sideways.
Who it fits
- Cyclists who like steep, steady climbs and tight corners.
- Day hikers who want quick views without a long approach.
- Drivers who enjoy twisty roads and aren’t in a rush.
- Leaf peepers who don’t mind waiting for a pull-off.
Little tips that helped me
- Bike gears: Bring a low gear. A 34×32 saved my knees.
- Layers: It’s cooler and windier at the top. A vest or light jacket helps.
- Downhills: Feather brakes. Watch for gravel and leaves.
- Parking: The summit pull-off fills on big days. Go early or late.
- Food: I stash a snack for the top. Then I plan a stop in Waitsfield.
- Winter: Snow tires. No jokes. Slow hands on the wheel.
- Timing: Tuesday or Wednesday mornings feel quiet and calm.
Final say
Appalachian Gap is not gentle. That’s why I love it. It’s sweat and views and a little fear in the best way. I’ve had numb fingers at the top, maple ice cream at the bottom, and a head full of sky in between. If you like roads that twist and trails that rise, this spot hits home. Bring legs. Bring layers. Bring a sense of humor. Until then, I’m paging through a stack of trail reads; my favorites (and the duds) are rounded up in this list of Appalachian Trail books I actually used. I’ll be back when the leaves turn—again.