During our week in Virginia visiting my wife's family and poking around her college town of Lexington, we had enough time to visit a few highpoints but only one full day available for a full hike (the rest of the highpoints were short hikes or drive-ups). We decided to tackle Elliott Knob, which tops the Great North Mountain located about 15 miles west of Staunton and an hour north of Lexington (where Beth went to school at Washington & Lee University). This peak has a good trail network, about four or five possible approaches, and based on previous reports, lovely views from up high. Also, Beth had hiked in these hills when she was a college waif, so she wanted to re-live some old times and show me what real Virginia hiking was all about. From Staunton, we went west on US-250 and south on VA-42 to the small town of Buffalo Gap. We opted to drive up State Road 688, which leaves Buffalo Gap at a white church. The plan was to drive up the four miles to where the road tops out at a pass called Dry Branch Gap, and where access to the North Mountain Trail was located. From here, the summit was a shade over 4 miles one way to the southwest, with about 1,870 feet of gain.

As we turned off VA-42 onto road 688, a sign said the road was closed 2.5 miles ahead. Undaunted, we drove in anyway, and sure enough, 2.5 miles later, we came to a set of orange barricades. We encountered an older gentleman out for a walk, and asked him if he knew any details of the closure. He said there was some big earth-movers up ahead completely blocking the road, but that the trailhead was still open another 1.5 miles further, except that one had to drive all the way around to get to it. We chatted for a few extra minutes then got on our way. We drove back out to the white church at the main highway and debated our options. I noted there was a trail and a service road about 3 miles south that led to the top. The service road was probably not as pretty a hike as a trail hike, while Beth's concern about the "Falls Hollow" trail was that it might be overgrown. Besides, she was really itching for a good trail hike, so we decided to go for it and make the 25-mile drive up and around to the other side. So, a half-hour later we make our way all the way around and finally roll up to the trailhead. Much to our surprise there was the old man! He broke out laughing and was clearly surprised to see us again. After getting our stuff in order we got started on the trail at about 10 a.m. sharp. There was one other vehicle already there. According to the map we were at 2,591 feet elevation.

The hike started well. We followed the good trail up a short ways, then down a ways to a drainage, then up and up as it gained at pleasant to slightly moderate grades. The forest cover was quite thick and views were minimal. About a mile and a half in we caught up to the other hikers, a couple out with their tiny Pekingese dog. We talked for a bit; they were locals and had hiked the peak a few times, but never from this approach. We then got moving and continued to gain until we got high enough to where the tree cover abated just a tiny bit, allowing for some very nice views to the valleys to our west. About two miles into the hike we came upon some sections of trail that had become overgrown slightly, and with much more rocks. Both of us probably thought of snakes, but, as usual, our usual sense of confidence and complacency overrode any fears of actually coming across any such critter. Besides, these stretches were short, although I did change into pants to avoid getting scratched up further. Finally, we surmounted the main ridge, called the Lead-Off Ridge on the maps, at a saddle between peaks 4,141 and 4,067. Everything was good until we got to the highpoint of the trail just east of the summit of peak 4,141. Here, the trail became quite overgrown. It did allow for our first (and only) view of the summit, as the photo below shows.

We were still over a mile from the summit, and the dense growth never really abated, at least for most of the next half-mile. In sections the trail was just a faint path in knee-high grasses, with numerous bushes, tree limbs, downed snags and whatever else usually getting in our way. This was definite snake country, and now we had some real concern. We just went slow, carefully, stomped whenever possible and finally, came back out to more open trail. From here we followed it until it intersected the service road, which we followed to a turnabout. From there, we followed a faint secondary road to the very top, marked by a large steel lookout tower amid a fairly broad, flat summit. It had taken us maybe two hours to make the top. There was a guy already there, having come up from another direction. He was checking off wildflowers from a list. We chatted, and he kindly took our photo. He then sat and had his lunch while Beth and I walked to the summit rocks, a small pile about four feet high marked by a pole and a good-sized cairn. At the cairn I pulled out a strongbox and noted it was full of random crap. Sure enough, it was a geocache. So I put it back in. Then I offered to take Beth's photo, so I walked back a few paces. As I did so, one rock moved. Then a rattle. Not a sustained rattle but a short one, then another. Beth saw the snake first and said something to the effect, "there's one big ass rattler!". I, heroically, ran a few feet away amid the jumbly rocks, turned, and watched as the biggest rattler I've ever seen uncoiled from his place of repose and slithered away. This guy was easily 3+ feet and as fat as my arm. He was probably not very hungry, ergo, he was probably in a pretty reasonable mood, as snake moods go. We watched him disappear, then attempted to do our own disappearing act as well. Beth had an open path and bounded out, but I had cornered myself on the rocks, surrounded by thick brush. With adrenaline pumping and assuming there were probably three hundred more snakes ready to strike nearby, I just made two big steps and leaps and got myself off the rocks and onto the open grassy area. Yikes! Double yikes! We walked over to where the other guy was enjoying his lunch and told him about our snake friend. He actually seemed like he wanted to go and find him, but thought better of it. The three of us sat around and had lunch. Soon, he was off and Beth and I remained to finish eating and let the adrenaline highs wear off. I should note that the views of the surrounding valleys and peaks was very lovely, save for a radio tower and buzzing generator nearby.

After we finished lunch we debated our options. Going back the way we came in seemed to be less attractive to us after seeing that big snake. I was willing to go that way anyway, grab a branch and beat the brush as we walked through it. It would take awhile, of course. Beth, however, had no desire to go out that trail at all. We discussed our options, assessed our water, and after some further discussion decided to hike down the mountain via the service road. The hike down covered just about 2.5 miles and dropped almost 2,200 feet. The road was steep and full of loose rock, and very uninteresting in regards to the views. But, it went fast; we were down to the highway (VA-42) in exactly an hour. Now, we had to walk three miles north back into Buffalo Gap. This went quick, too, taking about an hour and fifteen minutes. The highway didn't have much of a shoulder, so we had to be real careful when cars came whizzing by, and we hoped the drivers were paying attention as they passed us. Once back in town we walked to the white church at the corner of VA-42 and Road 688, and took an elongated rest on the nice lawn. We just had the last four miles to walk to our car, and we hoped that a friendly local would offer us a lift, but no one did, although they did wave to us. So, with time a-wasting, we got moving again and in about 90 minutes had covered the remaining four miles, crossing through the barricades and the big work equipment therein. We arrived back to our car at 4 p.m., utterly exhausted and out of water. We figured that our loop had covered an extra six miles and an extra 800 feet of gain (the lowest elevation was at the white church, at just about 1,800 feet, while our car was just under 2,600 feet). So, instead of an 8.5-mile round-trip out-and-back hike along trail, we did a 14-mile loop with a gross gain of nearly 2,700 feet. Back at the car we slumped in the seats in exhaustion, slowly changed into drier clothes, and got moving after hearing two very loud gunshots coming from a nearby residence. Not necessarily fearing that they were shooting at us, we nevertheless felt compelled to get going. Probably just the locals trying to combat boredom. So from there, we made a drink stop in a small town called East Augusta then drove the hour-plus to Lexington, staying at the Natural Bridge resort a few miles south out of town. Dinner was wonderful, the shower heaven and the night's sleep, divine.