The Virginia Triple Crown is one of those hiking goals that lives quietly on people’s bucket lists for years, until one day it suddenly becomes now. Three iconic summits. Three very different personalities. One unforgettable stretch of the Appalachian Trail weaving through Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains.
In mid-December, I went for it with my friend AW. Winter miles. Cold fingers. Big feelings. And, as it turns out, a few broken bones I didn’t know about yet.
What Is the Virginia Triple Crown?
The Virginia Triple Crown consists of:
- McAfee Knob
approximately 8 miles and 1,830′ - Tinker Cliffs
approximately 8 miles and 1,945′ - Dragon’s Tooth
approximately 5 miles and 1,256′
All three sit along the same section of the Appalachian Trail near Roanoke and Catawba Valley, forming a loose loop that has become a rite of passage for Virginia hikers. While it’s not an official designation by the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, the Triple Crown emerged organically — hikers recognizing that these three landmarks together showcase the full character of this region: sweeping views, exposed rock, technical scrambles, and relentless stair climbs.
A Brief (and Important) Look Back: Indigenous History
Long before trail blazes, staircases, or Instagram summits, this land was home to Indigenous peoples, including the Tutelo, Monacan, Saponi, and other Siouan-speaking tribes. These mountains were not “recreation” — they were routes, homelands, hunting grounds, and sacred spaces.
When we walk these trails today, it matters that we remember we’re moving through places with deep histories that long predate outdoor recreation. The views didn’t become meaningful when they became popular. They’ve always mattered.
Basecamp: Glamping, But Make It Thoughtful
We stayed at Four Fillies, tucked along a river in the woods, in their dreamy Glo Haus cabin. The entire property is a masterclass in intentional glamping — tiny-home-style cabins, converted western wagons, multi-bedroom cabins, all spaced thoughtfully along the river. Cozy, quiet, and exactly what tired hikers need at the end of winter days.
Day One: McAfee Knob — Ice That Looked Like Snow
McAfee Knob sits on Catawba Mountain, and it’s the most photographed spot on the Appalachian Trail for a reason. That curved rock ledge hovering above the valley feels almost unreal.
AW had never hiked in snow before, and the region had received snowfall the week prior — though much of it had melted. What remained at the summit wasn’t snow so much as ice pretending to be snow. Glossy. Delicate. Incredibly beautiful.
We lingered. Took summit photos. Drank hot chocolate. Everything was perfect.
And then — literally on a flat stretch right before crossing the road to the parking lot — I fell. No warning. No misstep I could identify. I didn’t catch myself at all.
I broke two toes, fractured ribs, and hit hard enough to give myself two retinal hemorrhages.
I did not know any of this yet.
So naturally… we carried on.
Day Two: Tinker Cliffs — Stairs on Stairs on Stairs
Tinker Cliffs, perched on Tinker Mountain, is often described as the “least exciting” of the three — and AW had warned me. She wasn’t wrong… but she also wasn’t fully right.
The approach is relentless. The Appalachian Trail builders and their stairs deserve both reverence and side-eye. So many stairs. So much quad burn.
The summit, though, requires care — especially in winter. Snow fills crevices between rocks, and it’s hard to tell what’s solid and what’s hollow. Every step demands attention. The view stretches long and wide, quieter than McAfee Knob, and honestly… earned.
Day Three: Dragon’s Tooth — Group Energy & Adrenaline
Dragon’s Tooth is the wild child of the Triple Crown. A quartzite fin rising from Catawba Mountain, it requires hands-on scrambling and a comfort with exposure.
This hike was scheduled with friends from Girls Who Hike Virginia, and the energy was joyful and chaotic in the best way. I was… a lot. More me than usual. My adrenaline was clearly running the show.
Group hiking is meant to be slower — and I love that — but every stop made my body scream GO. Lizard brain doing lizard brain things. Looking back, there were several red flags that should have made me wonder if I should dig a little bit to be sure I was okay.
This trail has a lot of scrambling, which is SO MUCH FUN to me. And to be there while other’s literally faced and conquered their fears related to scrambling was really special to me. I am so happy that I was with them and that I had these moments to keep me grounded while my body was so angry and I was blissfully ignorant to it.
One woman there told me she’d taken my training class at the Girls Who Hike Virginia Summit — and that she used my program to accomplish her Triple Crown.
I was so honored that my brain short-circuited and probably said all the wrong things in response. But wow.
What a gift.
Still, standing on that summit, celebrating my first Virginia Triple Crown, surrounded by others doing hard things? Worth every awkward moment. Well. For me. Perhaps their review would be different. 😶
What Comes Next
I’m excited — and wildly nervous — to release my Couch to Virginia Triple Crown PDF for free. If it helps you, please tell me. That’s the whole point. You telling me isn’t the whole point. It helping you is the whole point. Oh gosh. Here we go. I will stop.
Coming up:
- Backpacking the entire Virginia section of the Appalachian Trail this summer
- Backpacking the Triple Crown itself during that trip
- Offering intermediate backpacking events focused on conquering these iconic summits thoughtfully and confidently
The Virginia Triple Crown isn’t just a checklist. It’s ice that isn’t snow. Stairs that test your patience. Scrambles that demand presence. And moments of connection you never see coming.
The Lesson I Was Sure Existed (But Didn’t)
It has taken me until the absolute last minute to write this post. I’m trying very hard to write one blog a month, and this one has been looming over me like an unread text message from someone who knows too much.
I think I delayed because I was convinced there was supposed to be some Great Epiphany™ waiting for me.
Surely, I thought, there must be meaning in the fact that I had a catastrophic fall over literally nothing — not on the exposed ledge of McAfee Knob, not while navigating icy crevices on Tinker Cliffs, not during the scramble on Dragon’s Tooth — but on a flat, boring stretch of trail, five seconds from the parking lot.
Surely there must be wisdom in the fact that I then continued summiting for two more days while unknowingly walking around with broken toes, fractured ribs, and two retinal hemorrhages.
I kept waiting for the lesson to reveal itself.
A metaphor.
A breakthrough.
Some deep truth about control, surrender, resilience, or listening to my body.
Reader… nothing arrived.
Which has led me to the only conclusion supported by the evidence:
I may simply be an idiot.
Not in a self-loathing way — more in a “huh, fascinating data point” way.
Sometimes things happen not because they’re symbolic or transformative, but because bodies are weird, gravity is rude, and confidence plus adrenaline is a dangerous cocktail. Sometimes there isn’t a lesson beyond: be careful, rest sooner, and maybe don’t ignore pain because the vibes are good.
And oddly enough… that’s exactly the point of the Couch to Virginia Triple Crown program.
Because the goal of training isn’t to make you fearless, invincible, or immune to bad decisions. (Sorry…self) It’s not about grit at all costs or powering through because “strong people don’t quit.” (Again, sorry…self) Training exists to reduce the number of preventable dumb moments — and to help you recognize when something is not a training challenge but a medical situation.
The Triple Crown doesn’t require heroics. It requires:
- Consistency over bravado
- Strength so fatigue doesn’t make your brain worse than it already is
- Pacing so adrenaline doesn’t convince you that pain is just ✨character building✨
- And enough self-trust to know when to keep going — and when to stop
If nothing else, this experience reinforced why Couch to Triple Crown focuses so heavily on preparation, self-assessment, and decision-making, not just mileage and elevation. The mountains will always be there. The goal is for you to still be functional afterward.
So no — I didn’t uncover a profound truth about fate, timing, or the universe.
I just got a very on-brand reminder that training matters, listening matters, and sometimes the biggest risk isn’t the exposure… it’s assuming you’re fine when you’re very much not.
Which, frankly, is an excellent reason to have a plan.
And honestly? That might be the epiphany.
Not everything has to be profound.
Not every fall is a metaphor.
Sometimes you just fall. And then you hike anyway. And later you write about it, slightly embarrassed, still grateful, still learning — and still very much in love with these mountains.
