Not up that new trail from the picnic area that takes you up the backside and puts you on the mountain before you know it. And not the picturesque trail that winds through woods and water and finally rewards with a wonderful view of the Middle and Lower Falls on Big Sandy Creek at the south end.
Not even the old trail, the one we locals know, the northside trail off the old access road that travels through thick woods for about two-thirds of the way up, then opens up to that gorgeous, close-up view of the Blue Ridge and the Roaring River gorge.
No, stepdaughter went up the west side at the meadow – the sheer granite face that the rock climbers use. You know, the ones with hooks and rope, plenty of rope.
Never been up that trail. Doesn’t look like I’m going, either.
But friends have gotten petite lil’ stepdaughter interested in rock climbing, of all things. After learning the ropes (heh, heh) down in the Charlotte area where she lives, they took her for her first out-of-town rock climbing to none other than our own Stone Mountain.
I think we neglect what a treasure we have here in the big rock at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the Wilkes-Alleghany line.
Stone Mountain has quite a reputation around, and it’s probably the premium destination in these parts for rock climbing and a very popular spot for a host of other outdoor activities, including trout fishing. After all, nobody else has a bigger rock to climb. So stepdaughter’s rock-climbing teachers came here, naturally.
And to think we almost lost Stone Mountain.
How can you lose a mountain? Most people don’t know the story, but at one time a company wanted to chop out the granite at Stone Mountain. They had the plans drawn up and were going to build a railroad line up from Roaring River to start a quarry.
But then they found another site, in Mount Airy. Closer to the railroad and much cheaper to start up. More environmentally friendly, we would say today, since the Mount Airy granite was laid out on the surface and did not require dismantling a mountain. The rest, as they say, is history, as the quarry in Mount Airy today is world-famous.
But think of what could have happened. Instead of one of this state’s great natural wonders we could have had today at Stone Mountain a mound of granite rubble, a bunch of dangerous dynamite ready to blast and a lot of loud and smelly heavy machinery.
But the mountain’s remoteness saved it from the industrialists.
It was remote enough when I first went. I had never heard of Stone Mountain until one day Dad up and took us for a Sunday drive. The mountain was not yet a state park; everything was private. Just getting to the rock involved driving over narrow, gravel roads twisting ‘round and ‘round hills. Dad took us on what they call today the Alleghany Spur Road from the Traphill end – this was long before they built the straight, hardtop Frank Parkway - and the trip seemed to take all afternoon. There were few houses and nobody hardly to be seen.
I do remember seeing one old man wearing overalls far down in a creek bottom tending a garden. “Bet they don’t go to the A&P (supermarket) every week,” Dad commented. Bet not. To my young eyes, we might as well have been in the middle of the African jungle.
Turned out Dad had a connection to Stone Mountain. Some years letter he confided to me he once played hookey at Stone Mountain. En route to Traphill High he talked the driver into letting him hop off the school bus, he spent the day at the mountain, and hopped back on the bus for the trip home.
Some years after Dad died I came across one of his old classmates, and Mr. Carter told me the rest of the story, as they say.
Not only did Dad play hookey, but three other boys had joined him at Stone Mountain that day. And they got told on. Dad and two of the other boys got suspended by the principal for a week, Mr. Carter said.
A while back I ran into a son of one of the other hookey players from so long ago and asked if he had heard about what our dads and the others had once done. Yes he had, and Dickie even confirmed the school suspension.
Dad neglected to tell me that part.
Our church youth group one time took a trip up to Stone Mountain. By this time the state had bought the land for a park but had not yet had time to do anything to it like fix the roads or clear out the snakes.
We kids were riding in the back of an old pickup. We were having a ball. I was up in front of the bed, elbows propped up on the cab top and head in hands when up ahead I spotted something across the road. At first I thought it was a long, straight stick, but as that truck hauled me closer and closer I saw the biggest rattlesnake I have ever seen, before or since. It stretched nearly across the road. I just knew that snake was going to jump into the truck and eat us. Turns out the snake was dead, but nevertheless we kids calmed down real fast.
They say they’ve cleared out Stone Mountain’s once-famous rattlesnakes. That’s what they say.
Beware of Stone Mountain.
I invited some college friends up for a weekend one time. Back then they let you camp at some sites along Roaring River near the north side of the rock, and so we set up camp and I led a hike up to the rock.
We didn’t make it. A summer shower broke out, drenched us, and we turned back.
It turned out to be no summer shower. It rained and rained, a gullywasher. Night fell. Some tents got soaked, some friends got soaked, and we lost some coolers when the creek rose and washed food and drink away. Some of the most afflicted cried out to abandon ship, so I took them back to my house.
Surprise, Mom and Dad. Here I come traipsing in without warning at about 10 at night with a pack of wet and miserable strangers. Mom did her best to make a couple comfortable in the guest room, I put a couple in my room, and the rest of us had to find a spot on the floor.
My friends never came back to Stone Mountain.
I hope you do. Because Stone Mountain is so familiar, we tend to take it for granted, view it as old hat. But Stone Mountain is still a beautiful, unique place, the state is frequently making upgrades and improvements, and it’s worth the drive up just to check on the place and make sure the outsiders aren’t messing it up too much.
And if you see a pretty blonde climbing up the side of Stone Mountain, better back off. Her protective mother will skin you alive. I know.
***********
Stephen Harris returned home to live in State Road
Post a Comment
