Alright, listen up—this is no ordinary travel fluff.
This is the story of a man, his passion, and a mountain that became the pilgrimage for anyone who’s ever cried over a missing tail wag.
Twenty-five years ago, in a sleepy Vermont town called St. Johnsbury, folk artist Stephen Huneck shook off the dust of normalcy and did something insane.
He took 150 acres of hillside farm—his home and studio—and turned it into Dog Mountain—a leash-free wonderland for dogs and humans alike.
But he didn’t stop there. He built a chapel—not for worshiping widgets or avocado toast—but for dogs.
The Dog Chapel. A place where sorrow meets remembrance, and where grief finds a soft place to rest.
Picture it: trails that roll like gentle dreams, ponds perfect for a cooling splash, galleries lined with cute-as-hell dog sculptures, dog prints, and furniture—all carved by Stephen himself.
Then there’s the chapel, every pew tip carved with labs and goldens, stained glass stained with Sally—his own lab.
Visit this place and you don’t just see art—you feel it.
Now imagine walking in. Visitors do it all the time.
Anne Pace, visiting with her border collie Tam, finally made the trek after hearing the legend.
She left a wooden note tucked inside—for her previous dog, her best buddy. And she’s not the only one.
People come from Ohio, from across the country, yearn to walk here.
One visitor, Vanessa Hurley, glanced inside that chapel and whispered, “That’s a lot of love … Dogs and cats both, they just bring so much enjoyment to our lives.”
Stephen built more than a park.
He crafted a sanctuary—a living testament that the bond between humans and dogs matters, deeply, irrevocably.
Today, the place stands, open and ready for anyone whose heart still aches for a pup or smiles too big when a tail wags.
And don’t slip into thinking this is touristy fluff. It’s not. It’s a pilgrimage.
Gallery manager Pam McCann says it with no fluff: “Dog Mountain is really a pilgrimage place and a sanctuary.”
So what’s the lesson here?
Don’t wait for Disney to invite you. Don’t dream about perfect destinations.
Build ‘em. If you love deeply, chase that feeling—and build something real, something people feel in their bones.
Dog Mountain isn’t just a park.
It’s proof that a place carved with grief, joy, and wood can heal. It’s proof that tails don’t just wag—they connect us.
And Stephen? He listened. Built. And left us with a legacy no one can erase.
