My husband and I woke without an alarm yesterday morning, ate a quick breakfast, and got in the car to drive the two hours to Grayson Highlands where we would hike Mt. Rogers. As I packed my daypack, he told me it would be in the 40s and really windy. I grabbed a couple of extra long sleeved shirts to choose from, along with ear warmers and gloves. But mostly I was excited to bring my camera; I remembered this hike being stunning.

We arrived at 10am to blue skies and fierce wind — wind so strong that flags stood straight out and snapped and cracked in it, that trees whipped sideways, and that it ripped the door out of my hand when I opened it to get out of the car. I could hardly close the door against the wind. I had underestimated the weather and did not bring my wind breaker even though my husband told me it would be cold and windy. I feared I would be miserable the whole time.

I put on every layer I brought, and we got moving to keep warm. As soon as we started hiking, I was warm enough despite the cutting wind. It helped that the day was glorious. On our way to the state park, we drove through rolling hills planted with Christmas tree farms, and wound our way through mountain s-curves as gold leaves fluttered to the ground.

We hiked through a tunnel of Rhododendron and I could see my breath. I brushed up against a fir and smelled Christmas trees. The trail was lively with backpackers coming off the mountain after camping the night, bundled warm against the biting chill.

The vistas were spectacular, just like they were last time we hiked this trail ten years ago. Last time we hiked was in June, when fresh spring greens and pinks were emerging. This time, we saw yellows and oranges and brilliant reds mixed in with the evergreen of the firs. The brilliant reds were so intense, they were almost florescent in their redness. It turns out they were not leaves, but clusters of shining berries.

We passed over exposed meadows broken up by giant boulders, then down into glens filled with firs and rhododendrons and ferns and moss. We passed through a rocky notch that opened into a golden glade where the the forest floor was covered in fallen yellow leaves and the October light slanted through the trees.

The light all day was glorious. At one point I thought I had my amber-lensed sunglasses on, but I did not. I hadn’t even brought them. I just wore my regular glasses. Everything had a golden glow.

When we were out on exposed balds, the wind was so sharp and cold it made my eyes water. We hiked fast, though, and that kept me warm. We passed backpacking campsites that smelled of damp forest morning, nylon tents, and campfire. Smoke twirled up from the ground. We heard the zip of tents opening and the murmur of morning voices.

When we got into the fir forest near the top of Mt. Rogers, the crowd was absent. We’d been following the white blazes of the Appalachian Trail all day, but the trail to the top of the mountain was a spur trail, and we only saw a couple of other people on it. Unlike most summit hikes around here, the culmination of this trail wasn’t a view; it was a boulder, the highest point in Virginia, in an evergreen forest that felt primeval. The forest looked ancient with its moss covered stumps, moss covered tree falls, mossy trail and stones and tree trunks. The ground was wet and everything dripped; the mountaintop was often in the clouds, and not much light seeped through the dense fir needles to dry it out after being drenched in mist.

When we emerged from the forest, the light was warm and bathed the mountains in its amber glow, but I struggled all day to capture it. For once I hardly cared because the hike itself made me fall ecstatically in love with the world at least three times because I was so overwhelmed by the beauty. This is hands down my favorite trail I’ve ever hiked. I want to hike it again and again. I didn’t need photos to capture the light, I just enjoyed it.

But then, near the end, when I figured I just wasn’t going to get any shots I was excited about, I saw a pile of brown leaves on a stone in the dappled forest light. One textured leaf was spotlighted by the October sun. And I got it.