One of the very first places I went when I moved to Atlanta (18 years ago last week) was Stone Mountain. The largest mass of exposed granite in the world, Stone Mountain appears like a hippo surfacing in the water as you come around a bend on Route 78 towards Athens, Georgia. A 1.3-mile trek from the base to the summit up the back of the hippo is more achievable than it appears from the distance, and I have hiked that mountain many Easter mornings at 4:30 AM, flashlight in hand, in a line of climbers that looks somewhat like the Von Trapp family escaping Austria, in order to make it to the summit for the interdenominational sunrise service (a truly extraordinary experience, by the way).
This past weekend, however, we didn't hike the mountain. Stone Mountain has changed a lot in 18 years and the mountain is barely the centerpiece anymore. It's a full-scale theme park, with pseudo-experiences like faux tree houses, a 4D theater, an amphibious sightseeing experience, and a faux-1870s Southern town. New attractions, rides, shops, and events keep coming. The largest mass of exposed granite in the world is clearly not enough anymore (and to be fair, there are also pedal boats and camping and other more-simple and affordable things to do at the park, and we did enjoy the pie-eating contest pictured above, and have been pining for a nice, local pumpkin pie all week). Even the website makes it hard to find out basic facts about the mountain itself. (But you'll find answers to what to do if you have tickets to Coca Cola Snow Mountain, which was cancelled because of the drought.)
The historic Stone Mountain railroad runs the five miles around the base of the mountain, and it is there that I finally got my desired dose of history. Apparently, when the rail line was first built, in the mid-1800s, it connected the city of Atlanta with the town of Stone Mountain, which was then a weekend getaway. Like trains everywhere, it changed lives.
As the sun set at 7 and the crisp chill of evening enveloped us, we laid out our blankets on the large, grassy lawn in front of the face of the mountain, where a carving depicts three Confederate heroes of the Civil War (Confederate President Jefferson Davis, General Robert E. Lee and Lt. General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson). (The carving is so big, by the way, that workers were able to stand in the horses' nostrils.) We had an hour until the World's Largest Laser Show Spectacular, and we pulled blankets around us and lied down on our backs.
And there it was. An endless stretch of sky sprinkled with thousands of stars. Having left our wallets in the car, the constant stream of vendors selling glow sticks and cotton candy were no temptation and we could simply enjoy the connection we felt. To each other. To the universe. And to a mountain treasure that has stood the test of time, however much activity swirls around it.
I've thought of that starry sky all week, and I'd have to say that might have been one of the ten best experiences of my life.
2 comments:
A starry sky can certainly have that effect. Each night it never ceases to amaze me!
I can relate. It was on a such a starry night that my husband proposed to me on said mountain.
We were the last to be atop it, and everything about the moment was perfect. We were literally able to shout, "We're Getting Married!" from the mountain top. And we descended, hand-in-newly-ringed hand, by the moonlight. The memory will last me a lifetime.
I'm going to go kiss him right now. Thanks for the reminder!
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