The Motion Picture Event!

Welcome to the Adventure

I now present to you, Manventure '09: The Motion Picture, in all of its epic glory. Enjoy!

(enlarge to full screen for the best view)

And keep a watchful eye on the horizon: part III is still on its way!

Pilgrimage in the Mountains: Lessons from Virginia's "Triple Crown"

Part II

A Rocky Start...

Saturday, November 7, 2009

The mountains are alive with sounds: birds squawking, leaves rustling, branches swaying, and distant,

mysterious murmurings. Nature's alarm clock has no snooze button. We crawl from the toasty security of our goose down cocoons and throw open our tent flaps, emerging into the crisp, mountain atmosphere at 3,000 feet. Dragon's Tooth beams down on us, the early morning sun glimmering at its perforated edges. After lowering the bear bag, we indulge in a healthy breakfast of granola, oats, and dried fruit, fuel for the day's daunting task. But first thing's first: we must explore!

After a slithering climb up a large crack and a slippery slab of granite, we reach the top of Dragon's Tooth. From here, we enjoy a spectacular view of the terrain that still lies ahead. In the distance, we see a piece of McAfee Knob, our immediate destination. Even further, we see Tinker Cliffs, just visible through the morning haze. For a few years now, I've maintained the opinion that mountains are deliberately misleading. Often, when one is certain they have hiked a mile, they have only traveled a quarter the length. Distance and time in the mountains cannot be judged by the sweat on one's shirt or the time on their watch. The mountains are unpredictable and always - without fail - more dangerous than they appear. For this reason also, distance and time cannot be judged by sight. Time and time again, the mountains have demonstrated their knack for misleading hikers up meandering paths with one false summit after another and no end in sight. So naturally I have the audacity to say, "Oh, yeah. We can cover this in a day. No problem, guys."

Committed

Today, we will cover 12 miles. We will also have to contend with steeper terrain than expected, and one team member's increasing bout with the seasonal flu. Already at the start of our journey, Robbie is not feeling well, but he's determined to push through and give the venture his all. And since backpacking is much like "going all in," as with a game of poker, Robbie doesn't have too many alternatives. As soon as we've taken down camp and loaded our backpacks, we hit the trail, retracing our steps from last night's treacherous climb. The Appalachian Trail is steep and rocky here and covered with slippery leaves, so we move slowly, at first, albeit faster than we did going in the opposite direction. Surviving several slips and near-spills, we arrive at Lost Spectacles Gap and continue, northbound, on the AT. For the next 9 miles, Tim Bob will lead the way, since he is the only team member who has already hiked this stretch of the trail. He sets a moderate pace, taking us up a series of switchbacks through dimly lit forest. Coupled with our knee-blowing descent from the "Tooth," this climb marks the beginning of our epic voyage through the Virginia countryside. "And it only gets harder from here, gents," says Tim Bob.

Over the course of the day, we travel across a wide array of scenery: obscure outcroppings, random "windows" to the surrounding valley, views of red-tinged trees, soaring raptors, abandoned barns, and open pastures similar to those seen in the lands of Tolkien's "Middle Earth." I cannot help humming the "Fellowship" tune as we march across the open meadows of Beckner Gap. "This is where it gets rough," Tim Bob warns. Great, we say. Guess it wouldn't be worth doing if it wasn't challenging, though... Right? We cross a number of stiles laced with electric fences, and Sherwin gets fried like a squirrel nibbling on a power line. Just kidding, although we joke about the possibilities, and Sherwin retaliates with strong dosages of sarcastic and self-deprecating wit. We cross the stiles unscathed and begin the long and tiring ascent up a massive hill. Later, we dub it "The Hill of Death." When we finally reach the top, we are red-faced and out of breath. Robbie, weakened by his illness, can hardly breathe in the first place. Then and there, we say if he can make it to McAfee Knob, he will live in infamy as a true mountain man. Truthfully, it's his only option aside from digging his own grave beside the trail. There is no easy way out; we must all stay committed. Already, I am reminded of the meaning of adventure and of how quickly plans can change in the mountains...

Plan B

For the next several hours, we hike upon an undulating ridge line with frequent views of the adjacent valleys. These momentary glimpses remind us of what we're striving towards and embolden us to keep hiking, despite the difficulty. Regardless, by this point, we have made a group decision to not continue to McAfee Knob by nightfall. Since Robbie is ill and it has taken us longer to cover the mileage than expected, it would be unwise to "push it." Therefore, we'll stay at Johns Spring Shelter, just a couple miles beyond Route 311, and reach McAfee the following morning. This, everyone agrees, is more than suitable as a "Plan B."

The temperature drops, and shadows shift in the forest. It's almost 4 o'clock. We hear the low murmurs of an active highway and know we are close to 311. Moments later, we discover a wooden sign telling us we've traveled 9 miles since leaving Dragon's Tooth. The AT parking lot is crawling with hydrated hikers who stare at us forlornly, as we stagger out of the woods and stumble across the highway, rejoining the trail on the other side. To our shame, I wonder if we would have carried on had we left a car at this particular lot... Thankfully, though, for the sake of the enterprise and our reputations, our cars are miles away, and the only way there is by foot.

We have crossed several streams today and filtered enough water for the last few miles, but one major detail has slipped past me: Johns Spring Shelter has no water source. To find water, we must hike an additional mile (although, in the heat of the moment, we are so certain it is longer than that!) to Catawba Shelter. While an extra mile is not a terrible upset, considering how far we've already walked, it is a huge blow to our morale and Robbie's hope for survival. But we have no choice; our bottles are nearly empty. In the near-dark, we keep hiking. The AT winds steeply up Catawba Mountain. With a mile to go, Robbie, Daryl, Sherwin, and I lose sight of Tim Bob and Matt, who are - bone-dry - out of water and desperate to find a spring. The trail darkens before us, becoming a haunted 'night land' of unsettling quiet and eeriness. We are forced to retrieve our headlights. Now a funnel of light paves the way, and we 'up the pace,' anxious for the end.

At last, we catch up with our companions, who have also resorted to their headlights, and only

moments after rejoining them, we catch sight of Catawba Shelter, an old-fashioned lean-to, and another wooden sign, this one directing us to the spring! Everyone sighs in relief, and - as we reach the shelter - we drop our heavy packs and praise God for helping us through this trying day. Over the next hour, we filter enough water for a small army and drink most of it, too. Dinner consists of freeze dried ingredients and boiling water. Salt-saturated, meal-in-a-bags never tasted so good! We devour our dinners, topping the evening off with a fleeting fire, hot tea, and Japanese sake! Adding a little excitement to the evening, Matt - in his exhaustion, we'll say - manages to set a bowl of sake ablaze, nearly scorching his eyebrows, which leaves him with the well-deserved trail name, "Fire Water."

Later, we rest warm in our mummy bags, spread across the shelter floor. Reminiscing on the day's events is challenging, since we can only focus on the final day. We have traveled almost 15 miles since Friday night. Nine more await us... Robbie is rested, breathing adequately again, but understandably exhausted. We are sore, weak, and even afraid, but we are not defeated. We did not finish the day by our own strength, and it is the same strength that will see us through to the end of our pilgrimage in the mountains.

To Be Concluded...

Pilgrimage in the Mountains: Lessons from Virginia's "Triple Crown"

Part I

"Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean..."

~ John Muir ~

In Medias Res

We pass through a narrow, mountain corridor; the trail, barely visible under Autumn's crispy fronds, is laced with rows of fading grass blades that swish and sway against our thighs. Midday's harsh glare flares through the treetop canopy of chioanthus and draws the sweat from our pores like a leech to life blood. The forest rooftop glows radiant yellow as the sunlight spreads from one leaf to the next. We adjust our loads - tighten waist belts, yank on shoulder straps - and carry on through the ethereal mountain pass.

Welcome to the Appalachian Trail in Roanoke, Virginia. At 17 miles in, we are two men down and anxious to reach our destination. On this warm November day, my companions and I are backpacking across the "Triple Crown" of summits that border the Great Valley of Virginia in Roanoke. We have already been to Dragon's Tooth, a mighty rock monolith that reaches heavenward like a crippled, outstretched hand. McAfee Knob, renowned for "the anvil" rock outcropping that hangs some three-thousand feet above the valley surface, lies 2.5 miles behind us. The crowning achievement of our expedition, Tinker Cliffs - a half mile length of granite ledges overlooking the valley - is another 7 miles away. And we are already so tired.

Commence: Adventure

Friday, November 6, 2009

At 10 pm, the trail head is cold and vacant, a black hole to all who dare enter. We are six strong: Tim Bob, short but fearless; Matthew, eager to get underway; Sherwin, undaunted by the task at hand; Daryl, packing enough food to feed a small army; Robbie, his mighty "Moses" staff at the ready; and myself, anxious for adventure.

"Let's do this," mutters Tim Bob, his words oozing with concrete resolution. His L.E.D. headlight punches a funnel through the black of night, as he starts on the trail. We follow, in single file, up the Dragon's Tooth trail. Marked by rectangular, blue blazes every thirty yards, it is well maintained, and with our headlights illuminating the way, we have little trouble sticking to the path. In next to no time, we have arrived at the t-junction with the Appalachian Trail. "Where do we go from here?" someone asks. We go up.

From the intersection at "Lost Spectacles Gap," it is two and a half miles to the pointed peak of Cove Mountain, known to hikers as Dragon's Tooth. This section of the trail soon graduates from smooth to rocky, from gently sloped to precariously steep, from easy to strenuous in the same time it takes for our heart rates to surge and our blood to boil. We are no longer merely hiking, for the terrain before us demands our bodies' full attention. With each others' help, we jump over pitfalls, scale granite slabs, navigate hazardous ledges, clamber up rudimentary ladders hammered into the mountainside, and climb over one obstacle after another. Unhindered, we press on till midnight, when - at last - we approach the summit at 3,020 feet.

Ahead of us, the monolith rises to the star-splattered sky, its faint silhouette a sublime welcome to the great outdoors, our home and training ground for the next two days.


To Be Continued...

There and Back Again...

Adventure in the Mountains

JUST how epic was Manventure '09, you ask?

THIS EPIC!

Yes, yes. This is me in a hospital bed. The full story is on the way, but for now I will say our time in the mountains challenged us in unexpected ways! The terrain was tougher than predicted; the weather was warmer than one would expect in November; and water was scarce. But it would not be an adventure if we always knew what to expect, now would it? As always, God helped us to push through, and He might have even sent a guardian angel or two to join us... I believe this Manventure will find its home in the annals of legend! Stay tuned for the complete story with photos and videos. For now, I leave you with this teaser...

Manventure '09 Has Arrived!

ADVENTURE RETURNS!

On this brisk November weekend, I'll be backpacking Virginia's "Triple Crown" of views along the Appalachian Trail. Joining me are good friends. Team Adventure consists of the following:

Tim Bob, aka. Sleepy Time

Robbie, aka. Moses

Sherwin, aka. Asian Thunder


Matt, aka. Silent Fox


Sir Evan, aka. Dodge


and Daryl, who needs a trail name!

We'll be hiking 24 miles, from Dragon's Tooth to McAfee Knob to Tinker Cliffs, in Roanoke, VA! Stay tuned for an update when we return!

Photo of the Week # 14

"Moore" Adventure ~ October, 2009

Dad and me at "Sugarland Overlook" in Grayson Highlands State Park!

Photo(s) of the Week # 13

October, 2009

Grayson Highlands State Park, VA

Sugarland Overlook

(Note the massive Christmas tree farm!)

(Wild pony near Mt. Rogers)

Both photos by George Moore (Genesis Studio Photography)

Nor'easter on the Mountain!

This Just In.... 60 mph winds - Sir Evan Blown Off the Mountain!

Hyperbole is my claim to fame. Okay, so I wasn't blown off the mountain, but boy was the wind strong up there! My Dad and I didn't make it too far up Mount Rogers, but we did explore Massie's Gap, where this video takes place. Check it out!

There's a lot more to come, but since I don't have the time to write up a full article just yet, here are a few more photos from our adventure.

(Dad taking photos in the Virginia Highlands:
Note the mist creeping over the mountain...)

(The Aviators are no more *deep sigh* ~ Suppose these "Mountain Shades" will have to do...)

(Who wouldn't want a log cabin on the side of a mountain?!)

Sneak Peak: Early Autumn Adventure with Dad

Smell the Woodsmoke and Taste the Glory of the Mountains!

Sir Evan here! Just got back from an adventure with my Dad in Southwest Virginia, where we explored the backcountry near Abingdon and Damascus and also made our way to Grayson Highlands State Park. The weather was uncooperative initially but cleared up this morning, providing us with some spectacular views of the Virginia highlands. From the photo, you can see how the vegetation is further along at the higher altitudes. We were blown away by the vibrant colors. Anyhow, more to come soon, so keep your eye on the horizon!

(Sugarland Overlook, Grayson Highlands State Park, VA)

Photo of the Week # 11

December 31, 2006

"Smaug of the Appalachians"

Sitting atop "Dragon's Tooth" on the Appalachian Trail in Roanoke, VA, with friends, Jim Ed & Troy! Brisk and clear, it was a good day to be on the mountain and a great way to start the new year!


Original photo by Rich Wills. Graphic work done by George Moore.

Manventure: The Motion Picture

November, 2007

Shenandoah National Park, VA ~ the Appalachian Trail

Humpback Rocks

Music: "The Last of the Mohicans," original motion picture score by Trevor Jones and Randy Edelman

Photo of the Week # 9

Neighborhood Delinquent? I think NOT!

Not something you see every day... A young raccoon spotted in Midlothian, VA... just chillin' out in the backyard. Not a care in the world.


Say what you will about them, but this one looks like he just needs a friend...

Thanks to Tray for the awesome photo!

Photo Credit: Tray Murphy

Photo of the Week # 8

September, 2007

Appalachian Trail on Cold Mountain in Nelson County, Virginia... also known as "Cole Mountain," depending on who you speak to...

Looking back on "Bald Knob," only it's not really bald, is it?

From Three Ridges to Spy Rock: A Backpacking Tale

Part III

We rise at dawn. The air is fresh and cool. Sunlight pours through the roof of the forest. Beads of condensation roll down the nylon fabric of our tents. Squirrels forage for food and retreat at the sound of our voices. The day is new, and we are ready to embark on the toughest leg of our journey.

We are close to the Tye River, which parallels Route 56, the one break in wilderness on our four-day journey. It is a mere 2 and 1/2 miles away but entirely down hill, and the trail is covered with leaves, making the descent slippery and treacherous. I utilize my one trekking pole to the best of its potential, and I am relieved to have it; only I find myself wanting its partner as my knees begin to ache. I make a mental note to purchase another pole before my next adventure and cringe my way down the mountainside. After much slipping and fussing, we hear running water and emerge from the dense forest. The Tye River Suspension Bridge awaits, and we hurry across it, marveling at the strong current beneath. Here, we break for brunch and prepare for our next endeavor.

The Priest Mountain, a sentimental favorite from my Scout days, is not to be considered without earnest forethought. By ascending the peak southbound on the Appalachian Trail, hikers embark on a 5-mile trek with nearly 3,000 feet in elevation gain. The switchbacks are as endless as the mountains, themselves. The terrain is punishing: steep, rocky, and unrelenting. Sleepy Time (Tim Bob, for those who have forgotten) and I, having accomplished this task before, do our best to prepare Robbie and Brett for the challenge that lies ahead.

As we cross Route 56 and enter the Priest Wilderness, we feel little foreboding, since we are - all of us - fairly cocky and self-assured. Suffice to say, we are also fairly foolish. With little thought to the difficulty of the day before or our strenuous climb down Three Ridges just hours ago, we begin to climb The Priest, a mountain revered across the Appalachians. By the time we reach the first overlook and the halfway point we are exhausted, and some of us, like Robbie, for example - not to single him out or anything - but Robbie is pretty severely dehydrated.

"Sit down, stop crying, and drink this water," we say.

"I'd rather refuse the elixir of life called water and die on this mountain," Robbie as good as says. In reality, he says something like, "Ugh, I'm not thirsty. I'm so sick," nor is he crying.

The Priest is taking it out of each of us, but dusk is on the prowl, in addition to several turkey vultures swooping in circles around Robbie. Taking this as a bad sign, we devise a plan: Sleepy Time and Brett will hike ahead, while I remain at the overlook with Robbie, forcing water down his throat. In order to secure our campsite at the Priest Shelter and get a fire started before nightfall, the expedition must go on! Tonight will be the coldest yet.

Robbie and I watch our companions vanish up the trail head. Meanwhile, heavy clouds creep across the white sky, and tiny specks of snow hang in the air like dust particles. We shiver as a frigid gust envelopes us. After some time, Robbie and I are re-hydrated. He feels "loads better," so we leave behind our view of the bleak, Virginia countryside and march past a white blaze that points the way to the summit. As we near the peak, I feel a new sensation beneath my knee caps. I wince and push it aside, but by the time we set foot on the boulder-strewn summit of the Priest Mountain, my patellas are grinding like sandpaper, and I am secretly concerned.

I try to ignore it and take a painkiller. Robbie and I ease off our backpacks and rest for a while, soaking in the purple hue of a winter, mountain sunset. To the east, we observe Three Ridges. We are humbled by its severity and amazed we have made it this far. From the very edge of the mountain - his personalized hiking staff firmly planted - Robbie surveys the land. With his grizzly facial hair and strong pose, he looks, oddly enough, like Moses at the parting of the Red Sea. I envision a massive stamp slamming on Robbie's manila file with a resounding thud: TRAIL NAMED.

There is little time to spare, so Moses and I return to the trail and hike a mile further, where we find our friends at the campsite chopping firewood. It is only fitting, since I bestow Robbie with his trail name, that Tim Bob do the same for Brett. And it so happens, during our absence, Brett apparently "split a friggin' tree in half with a huge rock," or so Tim Bob says. So Brett - now Hammerhead - proceeds to build a miniature log house out of kindling, and Sleepy Time lights a bundle of tinder. Cold and tired, we are all anxious to gather round the campfire. There is much to be done: dinner to make, tents to set up, bear bags to hang. But for now all anyone can do is loaf next to the fire, entranced by its incandescent glow.

It has been a trying day of adventure in the mountains.

Photo of the Week # 6

On the Edge

December, 2005

McAfee's Knob in Roanoke, VA... most photographed spot on the A.T.



Rich Wills livin' close to the edge...



Photo by Zachary Burton

Prelude to Adventure

"For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him."
~ Psalm 95:3-4

God must delight in surprises, because He sure is full of them. While I'm sure it pains Him to watch His children suffer when their plans fall apart under the weight of His superior plans, I'm sure He also finds great joy in knowing what is best for His children and acting upon it. While His purposes are rarely clear in the beginning and while we may suffer - torn, at times, from our hopes and dreams - His will is ultimately better, and because He loves us, we are left better off in the long run.

These are the thoughts I often turn to when I reminisce on the adventure that transformed my life. In December of 2005, I was a junior in college and still bent on my high school dream of writing a novel. Long ago, I had worked everything out in my mind. I would write a story of unparalleled inspiration, tearing through traditional expectations, and, upon graduation, I would already be a best-selling author. I felt it was my purpose. My primary aim in life seemed the fulfillment of this dream. But it was getting harder to accomplish as I became distracted and confused. To make matters worse, I was losing interest. As I desperately clung to my teenage aspirations, like a sailor to the mast of his sinking ship, I became frustrated...then angry. Why had God led me down this path only for it to end in failure? I felt defeated and lost. I had spent so much time and energy... and for what? What was I supposed to do now? By the end of 2005, I was distant from God, unsure of His faithfulness and unsure of my relationship with Him. Little did I know, He was never far.

One day, I got a phone call from an old friend. "I think it would be really cool to get the old crew back together for a camping trip on New Years," said my friend, Rich. "We'll hike to McAfee's Knob and spend the night. It'll be like old times." The idea of spending some quality time with my old friends, The Nightwalkers, interested me more than the idea of backpacking, but it was more than enough for me to commit. I had not camped, let alone backpacked, in a long time. I didn't know if I'd be up to the challenge, but Rich assured me it wouldn't be a difficult hike, and everyone would be out of practice. And although the hike was a little tough - since I was way out of shape - it ended up being totally worth it. We reached the Appalachian Trail shelter ahead of schedule and made camp, our Scout skills resurfacing as if we had never lost them.

It felt good to be doing something. To set up a tent, pick up firewood, light a stove, get dirt on my hands. The air was crisp and clean with a little bite as I breathed through my nostrils. Leaves crunched beneath my feet, and the chilly mountain breeze gently stung my skin. I felt inspired... alive! This experience - the outdoor experience - was new to me all over again. That night we made a scorching fire and crowded together, cupping bowls of steaming brunswick stew. It was good to reconnect, to talk and laugh in the still and quiet of the night. I remember a satisfaction I had not felt in a long time.

The next day, we shouldered our day packs and began the climb to McAfee's Knob, Roanoke, VA's most photographed landmark and Appalachian Trail hot spot. Again, I struggled but succeeded. We reached the Knob, and I stood, amazed. Only once in my life could I remember a view such as this. While staring across the wintry, Virginia valley, I realized how much I had taken for granted, and the ache of my heart told me what was missing. In this moment, I found myself caring more about the present reality than any fictitious moment I could create. The granite cliffs were real. The drifting clouds were real. Me, standing on the mountaintop... real.

And in retrospect I attribute this experience to God, the Creator of those mountains. The Annual Nightwalker Trip (which it would ultimately become) at McAfee's Knob laid a seed. In little time, I became enthralled with the natural world. I could feel its power and testimony. It both amazed and perplexed me. I felt drawn to it, and so began my great love for outdoor adventure. But more importantly, it was through the outdoors that God spoke to me. For so long I had been making plans, uninterested in His own. Then, when things fell apart, I fell away. Now, I look back on my first, true, outdoor experience, and I can see God pursuing me. I can see God's hand in the mountains, how He conceived and shaped them. Being as stubborn as any man, I needed a strong example of God's strength and faithfulness, and He delivered with His Creation... Of all things.

My life has changed in many ways since 2005. God has fostered in me a great love for the outdoors. I care very deeply about peoples' interaction with nature, especially America's children, and I want to share my appreciation for God's splendor, depicted perfectly through Creation. And I still write, only now with a different purpose.

"Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth."
~ Hosea 6:3

Photo of the Week # 2

Dawn on the Mountain
March, 2007

The Priest Mountain, Nelson County, VA

George Washington National Forest/The Priest Wilderness

Elevation: 4,063 feet
17 degrees plus windchill factor


Photo by Sir Evan, Nikon CoolPix L3

Blue Ridge Days... Rocky Mount Day Hike

April, 2008

It's hard to believe how much time has passed since I've been in Winston-Salem. A year ago I was working full time at Blue Ridge Mountain Sports, receiving inventory, selling gear, and helping run a store. I was also going on a considerable number of day hikes with numerous friends, among them, Dan the Man! It was around this time last year when we ventured to Skyline Drive, out in Shenandoah National Park (SNP), for a vigorous hike on the Rocky Mount Trail. It is one of the only 9+ mile circuit hikes in SNP, and with nearly 3,000 feet in elevation gain, it is a strenuous (and rewarding) climb!

We park the car at an impressive overlook and take a jaunt down Skyline Drive till we encounter the trail head, marked with a blue blaze and sign. The trail immediately descends into dense forest, indicating the upward battle we will later endure. Within the first mile of hiking, we come across a glistening, reflective pool, fed by a narrow stream, which Dan somehow manages to step in, resulting in soggy hiking shoes. I make fun of him, but he easily shrugs it off and probably finds a clever way to throw it back on me. This type of dialogue is most common between us and oddly entertaining. A mile or two later, we take a break in a sunny glen, set apart from the trail adjacent to another brook. Bugs are out but unobtrusive, and the water looks clean enough to drink. The grass is neon green, interspersed with slim, towering trees. It seems too good to be true, and even now, I can't believe how perfect a spot it was. We don't stay long, though, and return to the task at hand.

Soon, the trail grows steeper, and we are forced to climb hard, all the while, crossing streams, hopping across rocks, and wheezing like asthmatics. We've descended so far; now we must reclaim that cursed elevation. Eventually, the dirt trail gives way to "riprap:" countless, shifting, granite, sun-reflecting rocks. They are a royal pain in the butt, as they roll and tumble right out from beneath your feet. I also have to put my sunglasses on because of the glare, and by now it is hot. Sweat stings my eyes and clouds my vision.

As we traverse this tricky portion of the trail, we notice two bear cubs scurry across the trail up ahead and shimmy up a tree. We stop and stare. This is amazing! I can't get my camera out fast enough. But wait just a second. We realize where there are baby bears...there is sure to be a mother bear. And mother bears are fiercely protective. There is little talking about it. We make haste, continually looking over our shoulders.

From here, the trail intensifies. It is ridiculously steep, and we are moving too fast. I urge Dan to slow his pace, but he says he's out here "to get it on!" Even if it kills him, apparently, as one could hear him rasping from a mile away. In short, we make it to the summit of Rocky Mount by lunch time, and I nearly collapse from lack of oxygen. But we made it, and, boy, what a view!

After lunch, we hit the remaining segment of the trail. By now we are exhausted. Therefore, the last couple hours are a blur. When we return to the car it is late in the afternoon. Some poor sap is just getting ready for a hike, strapping on his pack and lacing up his boots. Dan and I share looks of bewilderment. If this guy thinks he's hiking that trail before nightfall, he's in for one heck of a hike! We say as much in other words, but he's convinced otherwise. "Your funeral," Dan mutters.

In summary, the Rocky Mount trail in SNP is no easy stroll in the forest. But it is well worth the effort! Check it out if you get a chance. For more information, visit Hiking Upwards, the premiere online site for information on Virginia trails. Easily accessed from Skyline Drive, Rocky Mount is a feasible destination, no matter what direction you're coming from!

Mount Rogers Backpacking Adventure... Blue Ridge Style!

This video was taken in July, 2008, at Grayson Highlands, VA. On this particular trip, my former coworkers from Blue Ridge Mountain Sports and I undertook a 12 mile traverse across rolling plains, rocky trails, and wilderness streams. Our destination: Mount Rogers, the tallest mountain in Virginia!

On our way, we encountered dozens of wild ponies, a notable trademark of Mount Rogers. One pony, in particular, grabbed our interest. Straight out of the 80's with his long, flowing mane, we dubbed him the Bon Jovi horse. Later, that pony would outsmart and humiliate us by reaching the top of the mountain first. How this majestic, four-legged beast of the wilderness managed to accomplish this, we never did learn...

After a desparate search for water (which ended well, thanks to a good Samaritan..."Dat map is wrong! The water be over dere!") we made camp and constructed the most epic camp fire in existence! But not before watching the sunset from Rhodedendron Gap...

After making it through a chilly night with little more than my survival blanket (it is surprisingly cold on the top of a mountain, even in July...) I awoke thirsty and craving hydration, as did my compatriots, so we left camp to purify water. Upon our return, we discovered our campsite invaded by wild ponies. Curious, backpack-sniffing, wild ponies.

Thank you, Mount Rogers, for an epic time in the foothills of Virginia.