7 Hidden Hiking Trails in the Adirondacks

Do you ever have that moment where you just want to vanish for the day: no phone, no small talk, just breeze, dirt, and the suspicious crunch of last year’s leaves? Me too.

Here’s the thing: the Adirondacks have secret places for that. Not the Instagram-famous peaks with lines longer than Black Friday, but little-known trails where your only audience is a nosey chipmunk and maybe whatever existential stuff you brought in your backpack.

These are the paths I tell my favorite people about; usually over coffee, with clear instructions to never, ever post them on social. Swear you’ll keep them hush-hush? Good. Let’s do this. Seven trails, seven moods, all blissfully under the radar.

1. Silver Lake Mountain (Taylor Pond Wild Forest)

Most people think “mountain” and picture a calf-burning, four-hour slog. Silver Lake Mountain laughs at that. It’s short (less than a mile) but climbs fast enough to make your breakfast feel questionable. The reward at the top? Panoramic views, with Silver Lake and Taylor Pond shining below, and Whiteface Mountain photobombing in the distance.

You’ll catch that first real breeze as soon as you clear the last scraggly pine. It’s the kind of summit where you don’t have to elbow for space, so kick off your shoes and own the rocks like you’re on a magazine cover. A couple of cairns mark the spot; a nice reminder that someone else, probably also running from their group chat, made it up here, too.

If the trail is muddy (and it’s the Adirondacks, so it’s practically a law), embrace it. Just bring an extra pair of socks. Silver Lake Mountain proves that adventure isn’t always about distance. Sometimes, it’s about how quickly you can change your altitude and perspective.

2. Floodwood Mountain (Saranac Lakes Wild Forest)

Picture this: wild blueberries staining your fingers, nobody around, and a summit that feels like it’s been saving its best views just for you. Floodwood Mountain isn’t flashy, but it wins you over the way old friends do: quietly and without fuss.

The hike is gentle at first, winding past boggy patches and stands of pine where the sun filters in like a compliment you didn’t expect. When you hit the steeper stretch, it’s over quickly, and suddenly you’re at the top, scanning the horizon for every lake you can name (and a few you can’t).

I once met a retired botanist up here who swore the wildflowers change every week. You might see a deer. You’ll definitely see why this trail stays low-key. Floodwood Mountain is for people who like their solitude with a side of scenery, and, okay, the occasional mosquito.

3. Sawyer Mountain (Blue Ridge Wilderness)

Ever wish you could hit pause on life for just an hour? Sawyer Mountain is your trail. This one isn’t about bragging rights; it’s about breathing deep and not worrying who’s watching.

From the trailhead, you’ll weave through hardwoods and soft mossy patches. The climb sneaks up on you; one minute you’re daydreaming, the next you’re on a rocky overlook with the Blue Ridge Wilderness sprawling out below like a living map.

My favorite part? There’s no big summit sign, no crowd. Just you, the wind, and maybe a friend or two sharing snacks. On clear days, you can spot distant ridges; on cloudy ones, the mist gives the woods a fairy-tale vibe. It’s the hike equivalent of your comfiest sweater.

4. Red Horse Trail (Five Pond and Pepperbox Wilderness)

Confession time: sometimes you want a trail that feels like a secret handshake. Red Horse Trail is that friend who never brags but has the wildest stories.

This hike brings you deep into the woods, connecting Big Burnt Lake to Clear Lake over five miles, but no pressure to rush. Along the way, rustic lean-tos appear at just the right moments; perfect for a snack break or a spontaneous overnight if you packed marshmallows (always pack marshmallows).

You’ll hear more loons than people. I once woke up to sunlight bouncing off Salmon Lake, convinced I’d wandered into a painting. It’s remote and can be tough-going, yes, but that’s the charm. Red Horse is for when you need to disappear (just for a little while) and come back with stories that only make sense to people who love getting lost.

5. Bear Lake, Ledge Mountain (Black River Wild Forest)

Let’s be honest: sometimes you want a trail that makes you feel like you’ve stumbled into a secret. Bear Lake’s path up Ledge Mountain does exactly that (especially compared to other hikes in this area).

It’s short, with just enough climb to get your heart interested, but not enough to make you regret your lunch choices. The ridge at the top? Broad, open, and staring straight out at the West Canada Creek Valley, mist curling through the trees if you’re lucky with your timing.

People almost never mention this spot. That’s a win. Early mornings up here are quiet enough that you can actually hear the water moving beyond the trees. Bring coffee in a thermos. Trust me, it tastes better with that view, like you earned it.

6. Chimney Mountain Loop (Indian Lake)

Every group has that one friend who insists on seeing the weirdest landmark. Chimney Mountain is for them. The trail winds up through typical Adirondack woods, but the summit is anything but typical: a massive rock chimney that looks like it landed from a different planet.

Climb up, scramble around, or just sit nearby and admire the wild view across Indian Lake and the wilderness beyond. It’s a playground for the imagination, the type of place that makes you wonder who else has sat here, staring into the distance, inventing their next big idea.

Local legend says hermits and hikers alike have left secret messages tucked in the rocks for decades. I’ve never found one, but that’s half the fun. If you have kids (or just act like one), this trail is a guaranteed win.

7. Boreas Ponds Tract (South of North Hudson)

You know those days when crowds feel like a personal affront? Boreas Ponds is your sanctuary. This isn’t a casual stroll; it’s a five-mile commitment(or a bit more, depending on gate status), but the payoff is a sprawling, mirror-like pond with barely a ripple thanks to its remote setting.

The silence here isn’t empty. It buzzes with bird calls and the soft clink of your boots on gravel. Sometimes, you’ll see kayakers gliding across the water, dwarfed by the High Peaks in the distance like tiny, determined ants.

Bring binoculars if you care about birds; bring a book if you don’t. Fishing is fair game, too, if you like the kind of waiting that comes with a view. Fun fact: the state only acquired these lands in 2016, so if you go, you’re still part of the area’s opening chapter.