GRAYSON HIGHLANDS STATE PARK -- Here on the rooftop of Virginia, the wind blows in hard from the northwest. It rarely ceases.

We stand at Massie Gap, my dog, Ruby, and I, with choices. To the southeast is Big Pinnacle, at 5,089 feet the highest point in Grayson Highlands State Park. To the northwest is Wilburn Ridge, the Appalachian Trail and, if we want to venture outside the park, Mount Rogers, Virginia's highest peak (5,729 feet). Cabin Creek cuts a small valley - a hollow, really - to the west.

It's warm at noon - maybe 70 degrees - and there's no humidity this first day of May. But that wind . . . somehow it's cool here in this exposed glade.

We start off with the short but steep Big Pinnacle Trail. It's only three-quarters of a mile, and the forest understory of mountain laurel and rosebay rhododendron protects us from the wind as we get warmed up. It doesn't take long. Soon, layers are shed and the water bottle comes out.

Near the top of Big Pinnacle, the tree line ends, and we scramble through a notch in the rock outcrop to find stunning views in all directions. There's the sloped bald of Mount Rogers to the northwest, and to the south, North Carolina claims its share of the ancient Appalachians. If you need reminding of why they're called the Blue Ridge Mountains, this would be a good place to come.

The wind truly is in full force. Red spruce trees, blasted by the constant gale, are stunted and carved into improbable shapes, like blown glass. Ruby doesn't seem to mind the wind or the fact that one side of Big Pinnacle offers an almost sheer drop-off. I stick to the middle.

In the valleys below, most of the deciduous trees have yet to leaf out. Driving the 5½ hours from Richmond is like going back in time a month, or maybe it's like going north a few hundred miles. Spring has not quite sprung. At this time of year, and at this altitude, weather conditions change rapidly. Park ranger Harvey Thompson told me three days before we arrived the overnight low was 17 degrees, and he woke to a dusting of snow.

The view from Big Pinnacle allows us to get our bearings and plot our next move. Down in Massie Gap again, Ruby pulls me toward a wooden fence line below Wilburn Ridge. The fence suggests one of the two things that make the ridge famous: wild ponies. OK, technically humans introduced them here. But they've been allowed to remain in a semiwild state, grazing on Wilburn Ridge as people hike by on the way to Rhododendron Gap and Mount Rogers.

Ruby doesn't know what to make of the ponies. She stops to stare as we walk within a few feet of one. This horse, however, clearly has practice ignoring tourists. There's always more grass to eat.

We go as far on the moderately steep Rhododendron Trail as the white markings that signify the Appalachian Trail, the area's other claim to fame. The famous footpath makes a 1-mile jog into the park before going up to Mount Rogers. If this were early June, we'd push on another couple of miles to take in the riotous brilliance of hillsides of blooming Catawba rhododendrons. Those hillsides are quiet now. Instead, we head back to Massie Gap for our final hike of the day.

On the way, we pass a couple on horseback - there are miles of equestrian trails in the 4,800-acre park. The gentleman tips his 10-gallon hat and offers Ruby and I a "Howdy."

Over the course of eons, wind and water have helped sculpt Grayson Highlands into its current form. The water is no less persistent than the wind atop Big Pinnacle.

Ruby and I make our way down Cabin Creek Trail. The creek drains Cabin and Wilburn ridges, and the steepness of the trail hints at the creek's erosive power as it pours down the valley.

The trail follows an unnamed stream for more than half a mile. Other trickling tributaries join this one, and soon we're in earshot of Cabin Creek. Thickets of mountain laurel line the creek banks in many places and give it almost a canyon-like feel. They also make it difficult for a novice fly fisherman like myself to cast competently for the native rainbow and brook trout that still inhabit these waters.

Fish or no fish, Cabin Creek is a sight to behold. Its beauty is no more subtle - its views no less majestic - than Big Pinnacle's. As the trail follows the creek back up the small valley, waterfalls crash into sparkling pools, some deep enough for a mid-summer swim. Ruby, of course, isn't about to wait for an August return trip. She dives in, buries her head in the water and pulls out a stick. She wants to play.

We range back and forth across the stream, up and down its banks, for an hour, then take a break on a rock in the middle of the creek. The sun has found its way through the canopy. There's little wind down here and fewer people. We must be one of the lowest points in the park, but somehow it offers the same sense of wonder as the highest.