For over three hours last Monday I sat in a doctor's office waiting to hear the news I already knew. When I'm still for that long, I get antsy and I did anything I could to pass the time from play with my phone to watch a TV I couldn't hear in the corner of the room, but mostly I thought of everything I was going to miss out on.

When I finally got put in a room after hour two, the insult to my injury was hung on the wall for me to see. A couple of sub par nature pictures stared back at me from dusty frames and I recognized each of them as places that I had already hiked.

Hiking, after all, is what got me in this mess. My right big toe was snarled sideways swollen and blue. The day before was perfect, I was even dumb enough to say it, "today's been a perfect day" and this was AFTER I broke my toe.

Climbing the ridges along Sill Branch.

Sunday was Mother's Day and although I worked for part of the day I still found time that afternoon to travel to my parents and spend time with mom who is recovering from a broken ankle. She's used to being on the move and a lot of my drive I definitely inherited from her. It was her holiday but I always include dad and Uncle Jim and the four of us shared our meal and the strawberry shortcake I'd brought from work. Mom read her card once, and then again after she ate, and cried when I left.

Driving home I was exhausted, I felt like I hadn't had a day off in weeks. All I could think about was how nice the late afternoon nap was going to be and when I slipped between the cool sheets my mind wouldn't let me sleep. It was absolutely gorgeous outside and at around 90 degrees, one of the warmer days we've had this year. I glanced at my weather app on the phone and noticed there was no chance of rain in Erwin, Tennessee. I hadn't been hiking since the Sand Cave a week earlier and I had thought of the trail every day since.

The view got better as I climbed.

First view of the Monkeyhead Rocks.

On the road, my spirits remained high as I zipped toward Erwin and a date with Monkeyhead Rocks in the Clarks Creek area off of highway 107. I'd never been there before but knew their location from viewing them across the gorge from the Upper Sill Branch Trail. The dirt road into Clarks Creek was packed with people. Campers, horseback riders, and hikers filled all the pull offs as I made my way to the Sill Branch parking area. I got lucky by getting the last spot available there and jumped out of my truck and surveyed the situation. I chose to find the rocks my way, which also happens to be the hard way.

The way higher.

Along the cliff wall.

I walked back down the gravel road a short distance crossing over Sill Branch and leaving the road into the woods. Keep in mind, there's no sign of a trail here at all. The rest of the way to Monkeyhead Rocks would be fueled by pure determination. I found my way onto a flat grade about twenty feet above the stream and followed it upstream pushing through heavy growth on what once was most likely a logging road. I decided I would gradually climb the ridge instead of trying a straight up approach. As I wound up the ridge the footing and terrain were difficult. Although it was late in the afternoon the temperature still hovered around 90 degrees. Adding to the enjoyment of it all was the shrubs covered in thorns I was wading through as I picked my way up the ridge toward distant blue sky on the horizon.

Standing in the shadow of Monkeyhead Rocks.

Rest breaks were frequent and as I climbed higher the views of Sill Branch Valley became better through the tree limbs. A large tree had fell down the grade clearing the path a little for me to shimmy up its trunk to the root system where I took an extended break in it's shade. My legs were already bleeding and I was soaked in sweat. I scanned the ridges in all directions with no sign of the cliffs. When I made it back to my feet I decided I would push straight up the ridge to save some daylight. I made it only a short distance before entering a mess of downfall and briars that were nearly impassable. The energy it took to clear this 100 yard maze can't be put into words to accurately describe it. Keeping my head down I pushed through and was rewarded by spotting a large rock rising up into the tree line off to my right. I thought it was maybe the beginning of what I was searching for but it turned out to be a lone boulder.

On top of Monkeyhead Rocks, all the climbing had paid off.

The top of pyramid rock. My last obstacle to make it onto the rock tower known as the sentry.

I picked my way to the top of the ridge and found a faint wildlife trail with tufts of hair along the way stuck in branches from passing deer. There was no sign of the cliffs but the easy walking led me into a small valley and onto the adjacent ridge. The terrain once again turns steep but the open forest made the climbing easier and as I wound around the ridge I arrived at the base of the first rock making up Monkeyhead Rocks! I climbed around it cautiously knowing my true target was about to be revealed and there looming above the tree line was the Sill Branch Sentry.

I figured I would take one last picture in case I fell.

Across this rock is where I wanted to get to, but look how difficult the pyranids shape is, and on both sides is around a 50ft drop off.

The rock formation was more impressive and intimidating than the pictures I'd seen and I wondered if I could even get out on its edge from where I stood below. I found a narrow chasm to access the cliffs and eased my way up the rock wall. When I arrived above the rock tower I found that what separated me from it was the challenge. A pyramid shaped rock connected to the back of the tower. On either side of the pyramid rock was a drop that would probably kill you. I decided to rest before doing anything and took in the scene from the cliffs. Distant views above Sill Branch Valley and beyond unfolded before me. I could hear the crowd of people at the waterfall making me thankful for my solitude. After having some water and taking some pictures I decided it was time to tame the Sill Branch Sentry.

Across the pyramid rock, I accomplished my goal!

Another shot from Monkeyhead Rocks.

It was hard to give up this awesome view.

I carefully studied my options and found a slight crack with a shrub growing out of the right side. It wasn't an ideal foot hold but enough to give me a way to grip a hand hold further up on the rock. In one of the dumber stunts I've pulled I went for it and got my hand hold on the first attempt but my foot slid causing my arms to have to support my full weight. When you think you might die you find strength you didn't know you have. I clinged tightly to the rock and swung my leg high finding a tiny ledge to support a little weight before I wiggled over the top of the pyramid rock and was now facing backwards. I'm sure it looked hilarious but I couldn't laugh because as I looked off either side I knew I could have been in serious trouble. I scooted backwards until I was in a small saddle off of the pyramid and I was able to spin my legs around and face the right direction. All I had to do from there was slide out to the edge and take the gopro shot I had came there for. After playing with different angles I found that it was much easier to get off the rock than it was to climb it. Once I felt some sort of safety again, I rested on a large flat rock and listened to Sill Branch Falls far below my perch. There was a lot more cliff area to explore but the sun was heading down fast. To save time I elected to hike straight down from the cliffs knowing I would intersect Sill Branch and the main trail on the opposite side when I got to the bottom. My plan was working perfectly even as I negotiated tangles of briars and downed trees and that's when things went wrong. My feet got wrapped up in the mess of vines and limbs and I knew I was going down, I dug my feet in and put my hands in front of me to break my fall and keep me off my camera gear attached to my back. I came to a violent sliding stop and quickly jumped up afraid I may have irritated some bees or snakes hidden from my view. My wrists and elbows were scratched up and I checked my pockets to make sure my keys and wallet were still there. Whether it was adrenaline or simply knowing I had to get off the mountain before dark, I felt fine even though my toe was severely broken.

The Sill Branch Sentry from below.

Gopro parting shot from Monkeyhead Rocks.

Hiking back I felt no pain and I emerged on the opposite side of the stream back on the main trail. I passed a nice dressed couple on the way to Sill Branch Falls despite the late hour. The girl was wearing so much perfume I smelled it for a good distance past them, it was obvious they weren't there to see a waterfall.

Sunset over Johnson City, TN.

The doctor entered the room and pulled the x-ray's up on the screen revealing a fracture running the length of my big toe. He said it was an impact fracture meaning it was crushed as opposed to a twisting break. Thankfully it wouldn't require any surgery but he suggested taking a month off from hiking to let it heal properly......suggested. Until next time, happy trails.

For my anniversary gift last year Amber purchased me a premium back pack from Bass Pro Shops. You know, the kind that real hikers wear with a frame to evenly distribute weight and straps to hook at your chest and waist. It's plush padding added to its appeal and as I slipped it on the store, it felt...normal. As we walked to the car, dreams of camping trips and miles of trail ran through my mind and I couldn't wait to wear it out.

My new pack.

Months went by, seasons changed, and my pack stayed exactly where I had left it the night I brought it home with the tags still dangling as if it to taunt me for neglecting it for so long. Every day as I dressed for work I longed to trade my neck tie for a chest strap and some nights I would stuff it full of weight and walk the stairs practicing for the day I would use it while Amber rolled her eyes watching me from the couch.

With the new year came new goals and one of them was to hike 500 miles. I typically hike every off day but it generally ranges anywhere from 4-8 miles so I knew if I were to succeed I would have to stretch my legs a little more this year. The first long hike I wanted to tackle was Carvers Gap to 19e, a fourteen mile run across the Roan Highlands. I've hiked it twice before but never in the winter so I was sure I would find something new to take away from it. As the days closed in on the hike the weather stayed colder than predicted and snow fell in the higher elevations. With miles of exposed ridge line and the possibility of snow drifts and 50mph wind gusts I decided I would save Roan Mountain for another day.

Slightly bummed but not defeated, I immediately started looking for a suitable replacement hike. My friend Shane has always wanted to hike the Brumley Mountain Trail from Hidden Valley Lake to VA Route 80. The fifteen mile trail also is home to the Great Channels of Virginia, a 400 million year old sandstone boulder maze located near the 12 mile mark of trail. I called Shane to tell him my change of plans and he didn't let me finish the sentence before agreeing to tag along adding that our friend Sherrell would most likely hike as well. The news of Sherrell joining us added to my excitement due to the fact he typically doesn't get to hike with us much and I sent out the message to trail  stalwart John Forbes of our intentions with his response being, "my bags are packed!"

Our crew of four made me dread the fifteen mile march a little less and the night before the hike we all exchanged messages and hype for the day ahead. I joyfully ripped the tags off my pack and went to work storing all my gear in the many compartments. The hike would also make another first for me, with its distance, we would park a car at either end of the trail making it a shuttle hike. As I finished checking bags and batteries I remembered running into John Lane the last time I was at the Channels. I had only hiked with him at Devil's Bathtub for JDRF fund raising but he was fun to be around and we struck up conversation once again and he told me to let him know when I had another big hike coming up. Not expecting a response on such short notice I sent him a message letting him know where we were heading. The next morning I awoke to a response, "I'll be there but it will be later, I'll run up from the other side and meet you all on the trail."

The morning of our hike I picked up Sherrell in Boones Creek and grabbed John as we passed Bristol. We met Shane at Food City in Abingdon and we were off to leave my truck at the parking area for the Channels at VA 80. The road to the top of the mountain is incredibly curvy and as we gained elevation a troubling development began to unfold; the higher we climbed the more snow we saw all around us. Shane chalked it up to the sun not hitting in the shade and reassured us we would have clear trails the entirety of Brumley Mountain. When we eased into the ice packed parking area at the terminus of the Brumley Mountain Trail I couldn't help but notice the empty parking area and snow covered trail stretching off into the wilderness. Almost reluctantly, I gathered my gear and tossed it in Shane's truck for the ride over to Hidden Valley Lake and the start of our fifteen mile journey.

The road to Hidden Valley Lake and our starting point to get to the starting point.

If I've ever been to Hidden Valley Lake I don't remember it. The road up to the trail head is steeper and just as curvy as the VA 80 side and as we approached the final few switchbacks up the mountain a solid sheet of ice stopped Shane in his tracks. We all got out of the truck inspecting the ice coated road and decided we should park I'm a wide curve avoiding the dangerous stretch to the top. Our hike would begin with a hike to the trail head.

14 miles on the sign. 15 mile on GPS. Another cruel joke by the trail team.

Shane, John Forbes, and Sherrell ready to take on the Brumley Mountain Trail.

The road was so slick it was pointless to try to walk on. As I flung my pack onto my shoulders it felt heavier than the night before and it took me a few minutes to figure out the fancy waist belt. Once I was strapped in it felt a little better but a short distance into the vertical climb my lungs were already burning, it was going to be a long day!

AND were off!

No tracks.

The quickest way to the trail head was straight up a dried up creek bed just about half a mile in length but straight up the gut of the valley to the summit. When I finally crested the hill I saw the Brumley Mountain Trail sign attached to a small kiosk. We posed for pictures anxious to hit the woods still not fully understanding the conditions we would face. The trail is blazed by small white plastic signs with black arrows. As we started up the trail it was difficult with the snow seeing from marker to marker, almost everything was white! The climb isn't rough but it's enough to make you sweat even in the winter and a short distance in I was wiping it from my forehead. Shane had hiked a short distance on the trail before and even struggled finding the markers. The snow on the ground was a beautiful sight and high in the trees the branches glistened with a coating of ice. As the day warmed up small shards of it rained down on us as we approached a nice overlook off of the crest of the mountain. A large rock jutted out giving us a nice platform to take in views of rolling hills coated in snow. I peered over the edge telling Shane it was only about a 30ft drop and through a little coaxing we got him to the edge for some photos.

First views come during the first mile of the trail.

Shane enjoying our efforts so far.

After the stop at the overlook, we started back to finding our way from marker to marker. Adding to the difficulty was the fact no one else had been on the trail since the snow so there weren't any footprints to follow. At a particularly frustrating section we couldn't find the marker so we all split up in search of the next one. Luckily I was looking down and noticed the sign attached to a fallen tree. The arrow was now pointing to the right and we set off once again in search of the next blaze. Sherrell spied it downhill a good distance and we seemed to get better at following the trail as we went along. The climbing ceased for a while and we followed along some cliffs overlooking the town of Lebanon, Va. It was if the designers of the trail purposely kept it a safe distance from the edge and any decent view. As I had my eyes trained on the search for markers I noticed something shiny attached to a tree, and when I drew closer I saw that it said "Mile 1."

Follow me, I have a real pack. Photo by John Forbes.

Downed trail markers.

Even after the first mile it was obvious John was feeling the effects of an all day hike the day before. He fell behind our pace and was soon completely out of sight. Frustration played a factor as well with our planned trip being canceled to avoid snow but as we continued on the snow started getting deeper. Shane, Sherrell, and I would stop and wait and soon we would spot him heading our way. When he caught us he was complaining of cramping but said he would be fine. There's few people I wouldn't bet against when it comes to hiking and John is one of them, I knew he would make it, even if it meant crawling.

Climbing along the trail.

Lebanon, Va.

Food City in Lebanon from the Brumley Mountain Trail.

As we passed mile marker three and eventually five each time I glanced over the cliffs we were following it seemed I was looking at the exact same spot in downtown Lebanon. Shane and Sherrell could identify several landmarks and pointed out the location of the Food City. Cars driving in the road far below were tiny specks from our vantage point. John would fade and we would stop to look over the scene below until he could catch up before we continued on. On a level stretch of trail Shane spotted a barrel resting against a tree a short distance below us. The barrel was locked shut and had a code on the side. We were intrigued by it's distance from anything and decided to leave it alone but not before taking a few pictures.

These markers kept us going.

Our mystery barrel.

The snow around mile six was somewhere around 8 inches or more. I continued to struggle with my pack and the weight shifting around on my back. I tried loosening the straps and then tightening them. I decided I needed to lose some weight and guzzled one of the four waters I had stuffed in some side pockets. I regretted it instantly knowing I should have conserved my water since we weren't even halfway. When we finally decided to take a lunch break at what we determined to be the halfway point (since we never could find the marker for mile 7) I felt a huge relief dumping my pack off for a few minutes. I dug into some beef jerky and joined Sherrell resting on a perfect log bench made by a fallen tree. Despite the deep snow and tired legs we all were really enjoying ourselves. I had brought along some celebratory spirits and we all took turns passing the jar around during lunch. John caught us to join the festivities and we all agreed that surely we were beyond halfway.

Shane and I nearing lunch time.

Lunch break.

The Hidden Valley Lake Hikers at lunch.

Sherrell and I at lunch.

After a nice break we were back on the trail and I was feeling completely refreshed. The pack seemed to fit better and my feet felt lighter, or maybe it was just the alcohol.  As the trail took another climb around the edge of the ridge I spotted it, mile marker eight! We were on the back side of the hike! I ran to the tree it was attached to and gave it a loving hug. My excitement was short lived as Shane pointed out a tiny line raising above the tree line on a distance ridge. He said, "hey guys there's the fire tower at the Channels." When I finally came out of shock I chuckled, it looked DAYS away, not four miles. The next two miles continued a rolling climb then descent, climb then descent, but I kept my eyes fixed to the ground and the now foot deep snow. The trail started passing through tunnels of laurel and my pack snagged each limb making it dangerous to hike behind me with all the flying branches. Sherrell stayed right on my heels though and I admired his grit. He hadn't hiked with me since our trip over a year before to the Sand Cave in Ewing, Va But here he was taking on the longest hike of the year. Shane didn't hike as much as he beamed. The smile on his face stuck like glue and he was savoring what had been a hiking goal of his for quite some time. He kept us motivated as well telling stories and sharing laughs as arrow after arrow passed. I really don't think he realized how much it was helping me ignore the screaming shoulders adjusting to the weight of a full pack.

This wasn't a photo op, I was that excited to see mile eight.

Sherell at mile nine.

One the laurel tunnels.

Still making tracks.

Sometime a few hours earlier, John Lane arrived at VA 80 finding it full with cars. He jumped out of his ride with a small backpack with built in water storage, a hammock, and his cell phone to snap a few pics. Despite the winter conditions he wore blue jeans, a wind breaker, and running shoes. He took off up the trail catching and passing other hikers in search of the missing Hidden Valley Lake Hikers heading his way slowly but surely.

Enter John Lane. Shane and Sherrell taking pictures of the fire tower marking the entrance to the Great Channels of Virginia.

Trail conference before final push to Channels.

As I crested another rolling hill I could see the shadow of the ridge growing larger and some detail emerging from the fire tower still so far away. Suddenly my eyes were drawn away to something coming toward me on the trail...running. That something was someone and John Lane ran up to greet me with a handshake. I introduced him to Shane and Sherrell and couldn't resist bringing up his light dress with the snow. He said he had got tired on the  backside of the mountain and set his hammock up but his feet got cold and to keep them warm he decided to run. I almost couldn't believe someone would hike that far over a mountain and then downhill knowing he had to climb it again with us! I was pumped, ecstatic, and any other word you can use to describe absolute joy. John fell right into conversation with Shane and Sherrell and our pace quickened. Despite his positive attitude he did warn that the climb up to the Channels was "a little rough." He seemed impressed by our efforts repeating, "I can't believe you guys have came so far in this snow." His admiration really lifted me and helped me appreciate we were doing something incredibly difficult.

On the clmb to the Channels we ran into Drew and his hiking buddy.

I wasn't prepared for this last mile of climbing!

I told you I wasn't prepared!

John Lane making snow angels.

I had only THOUGHT we were doing something incredibly difficult through the first eleven miles. The last mile to reach the top of the mountain and the Great Channels of Virginia was brutal. The snow was not only deep but as it started melting each step was really slick. The steep grade of the trail reduced me to a slug coming up the final stretch. I used large trees lining the trail as a way to have a goal to hike to. When I would reach each one I would collapse against it gasping for breath. During one of my breaks I noticed Sherrell's face was really red. He had ran out of water and between Shane, John, and I we rounded up enough to share with him. It had been over an hour since we had seen John Forbes and I asked if we should wait for him to catch us. John Lane told us he had been texting with him and he called to see where he was at. Luckily, John answered and he was within a mile of us and we decided to push on up the grade. Two hikers approached us coming down the mountain and I realized I knew one of them! Drew Duncan used to work with me at one of my countless Food City stops and he had hiked in from the bottom of the mountain on the Hidden Valley Lake side earlier in the day. We stopped for a quick group picture before continuing on. I heard a low flying plane approaching and an antique plane buzzed the top of the mountain tipping it's wings taking pictures of the Channels from above! The plane made several passes and each time we were closer and closer. Suddenly we popped out onto a level spot on the trail and over my shoulder I saw the familiar spur trail to the Channels! John Lane celebrated by falling in the snow making snow angels, I was afraid to sit down unsure if I could get back to my feet. The final push up the spur trail was again misery, The laurel caught my pack and John was kind enough to free me each time I got caught even lifting limbs to let me pass. Not only does he resemble Jesus, I imagine he has a lot of his actions. The pristine snow we had put our prints in didn't exist on the spur to the Channels. It was obvious a lot of people had hiked up from VA 80 that morning and when I popped out onto the rocks below the fire tower a crowd was gathered round watching a group of hikers climb to the top. In the distance I could hear music coming from a group of college kids sitting on top of the Channels a few feet down the mountain. Suddenly I longed again for the solitude we had through the first 12 miles. I shimmied out of my pack and laid flat on my back on a rock directly below the fire tower. I was now completely out of water with a three mile downhill hike between me and my truck. My feet were killing me but so were my shoulders. When I laid back closing my eyes the world started to spin. I felt like I had to hold on to keep from falling off and I sat up quickly realizing I almost blacked out from exhaustion! I had half of a mountain dew I'd brought to wash down my beef jerky and I chugged it to get the sugar rush to shock my system back online. After resting for ten minutes or so I wanted to see if I could even move. Surprisingly I felt good and I got up to go investigate the Channels. Sherrell said he wanted to rest and stayed behind with my pack while Shane elected to come with me. John Lane had vanished for the time being and Shane and I eased our way down the ice packed trail into the main part of the Channels. Even the walls of the rock were coated in ice and Shane and I were briefly alone in the two acre frozen maze. I broke out the gopro for a few pictures before retreating back up top with Sherrell and John Lane. I asked if they had seen Forbes and they said he still was MIA. As we gathered our belongings for the hike out Forbes arrived near the abandoned cabin and took a few pictures from there of the distant mountains. He said he had started feeling better after drinking the majority of his water thinking he was most likely dehydrated. We took the first picture of our whole hiking team at mile 12 of 15 of our day.

Heading up the spur to the Channels.

Dead legs coming through the laurel.

Pure exhaustion below the fire tower.

Realizing how far away it seemed and being able to lay beneath the fire tower gave me some energy.

Our group at the fire tower at the Great Channels of Virginia.

The three mile downhill stretch to VA 80 had much less snow but plenty of mud. It was a slippery affair the whole way and I spent so much energy just trying to stay upright. John Forbes found a new gear and led us the majority of the hike back. I spent a lot of time hiking with Sherrell as John Lane and Shane were quickly reeling in Forbes as they compared trail tales. I asked Sherrell if he would ever forgive me for the torture we had put him through, and he said he would gladly join us again when he had more free time. Shane eventually took the lead and as we crossed the gate just above the parking area I couldn't help but hum the theme to the TV show, I Shouldn't Be Alive. Fifteen miles of Brumley Mountain Trail was now on the hiking resume and we were all safe. As with most hikes, we decided a feast was in order to celebrate the accomplishment and we all carpooled to Pizza Inn in Abingdon devastating the beautiful buffet bar.

Shane and I inside the Channels.

We both were almost too tired to smile.

Deep inside the Channels. One of my favorite selfies ever.

John Forbes redeemed.

Our reward was some Pizza Inn and quality time with Jesus.

I took so much away from this hike it's hard to squeeze it all in, even if this is a lengthy entry. Helping Shane meet one of his hiking goals was an honor. Watching Sherrell take on such a long hike with no prep time and still enjoy himself was a testament to his discipline with his health. Having John Lane appear in one of the bleaker stretches of trail and immediately lift our spirits, and finally seeing John Forbes being bent but not broken as he pushed through cramps, dehydration, and fatigue to conquer Brumley Mountain. Until next time, happy trails.