Up The Country

I woke up this morning and felt an overwhelming desire to get the hell out of the city for a bit.  It hits me now and again that I should commune with nature, be among the flora and fauna or whatever.  One of the greatest things about Atlanta is that there are miles and miles of above average hiking, minutes from and even right in the city (thanks Jimmy Carter). Today was different for whatever reason.  Perhaps it was my inability to distinguish between the crack and report of the simultaneously sporadic, seemingly city-wide firework display and the randomly intermingled neighborhood gunfire last night.  I will say this for Atlantans, we are apparently a very patriotic bunch – I liken last night to the Shock and Awe campaign Bush launched against the Iraqis in the spring of ‘03.  It left me a might jumpy so to speak and I knew the standard hike along the ‘Hooch was not going to put me back on center.  Belle was inconsolable.  (We probably shouldn’t have taken her to that fireworks show at Centennial Park when she was a puppy.)   Regardless, I felt compelled to heed the call of that long forgotten (but oft-remembered) symbiotic symphony of Lynyrd Skynyrd and my truck tires on a gravel road.  So I set myself upon that quest, to go Up the Country, as it were. 

Not sure really where I intended to go when I left the house this morning.  I was listening to Uncle Tupelo so thought I might as well head up to Chickamauga.  The only true objective was to get out of the city and that certainly qualified, so up I-75 I went.  I got almost as far as Cartersville before getting distracted.  I had watched an Aerial America on Smithsonian recently and in it was a piece about the Etowah Indian Mounds, so I exited to see if I could find them. 

If you’re into the historical, as I am you would love it here.  The gentleman at the visitor center shared a wealth of knowledge about the Ocmulgee people who'd originally built these incredible mounds.  This was the first place I stopped after leaving Atlanta.  Though it couldn’t have been more than (50) miles from downtown, it felt light years away.  I was there early enough to be the only human being on the site and it was surreal.  Sitting atop Mound A, the big one, looking out onto the plaza below I could almost see back to those days.  I’ve always thought it would have been pretty bad-ass to be a Native American. I would have sucked at it of course – I don’t kill things, don’t have the best sense of direction and I suck at gardening. 

Baking there in the early morning sun, I couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed.  Where once stood an indigenous urban center of trade and art and ceremony now stands nothing.  The only evidence that they were ever here was the 63’-0” tall pile of dirt I was sitting on.  Not only did “we” strip them of their pride by forcing them off their land, we brought gifts of small pox and malaria.  We eradicated complete races of people to make this land “our” land.  If that wasn’t enough, we then dug up their sacred burial grounds and now charge admission to see what’s left.  Determined not to bring myself down with facts, I chose to remember what once was and honor that.  I chose to simply enjoy the world in which I live.

After another long conversation with Gary back at the museum, I left thinking what a kick-ass job he has.  Maybe I’ll do something like that when I’ve finished with the hustle. 

I was about to get back on the freeway to continue north when distraction #2 appeared in the form of Red Top Mountain.  I hiked all over that bad boy and never saw much of a mountain; exuberant hills, yes but nothing close to a mountain.   Good hiking here though along the shoreline of Lake Allatoona and up through the hills to the bluffs overlooking the lake – best hike of the day by far.

I saw tons of tracks along the water’s edge but didn’t expect to see any wildlife in the middle of the day.  Much to my surprise and delight, I would soon be proven wrong.  Coming up out of a deep ravine I heard a rustle ahead along the trail.  I assumed it was squirrels and forgot about it.  As I reached the top of that climb I saw several deer and hurried to my pack to get the camera.  By the time I had the camera in hand, there were only (2) left – I guess I scared the others off (like I said, not a good Indian). 

These (2) were chill though.  I don’t think I have ever been that close to wildlife in the actual wild and I didn’t really know what to do.  They didn’t seem to be too concerned with me considering I had snapped about a thousand pictures in the previous (3) minutes.  I sat down on a rock so I could get my sketch book without spooking them.  I’m an architect – I felt a sketch was in order.  As I did, I said, “Hey ya’ll, what’s up?”  I accept the probable truth that what happened next happened only in my imagination, but I swear the older one said, “Just chillin’.  What’s up with you?” 

In somewhat of a state of shock that they hadn’t scurried off with the rest of the gang, I decided to just sit there and see what they would do.  It was amazing.  At one point I walked up to within (20) or so feet of them and they were completely unimpressed.  I watched them, followed them along the ridge as they picked around the leaves, grazing on the tall grass for at least an hour.  They groomed each other, grunted and snorted, stomped a hoof now and then.  After a while, I realized that they weren’t going anywhere and I started to feel like I was intruding on their perfect little world so I took the left split and they meandered to the right, back into that little valley. 

Walking out, I couldn’t help but be thankful for having been allowed that brief glimpse into their wild world.  It is beyond me, how a human being can look into those big eyes and squeeze a trigger and end their life. 

After this interlude, I had given up on the Chickamauga thing and turned the truck back toward the A.  Halfway home, I remembered that I had never been to Kennesaw Mountain and thought I might as well check that off my list while I was out and about.  Incredible amounts of history here, but a little too populated with soccer moms and bratty screaming children for me to fully enjoy.  More than once, as I struggled to the peak in the afternoon heat I had to resist tripping, pushing and / or otherwise incapacitating the hordes of suburbanite assholes that I found myself forced to share earth with.

Upon my arrival at the summit, I felt finally like it was worth it.  That was a tough climb for my old out of shape ass: probably should’ve been a morning hike.  Either way, the views of Atlanta from the peak are exceptional even with mid-summer smog.  The only negative being that there was not a zip-line down to the base as I’d convinced myself there might be in an effort to push myself to the top.

The Battle of Kennesaw Mountain started on 27 June, 1864, and was the first significant battle of Sherman’s assault on Atlanta.  The battle is recorded in history as a tactical defeat for the Union forces, but it did not prevent his ultimate victorious March to the Sea.  Over 5,000 United States citizens died in and among the trails I walked today.  The weight of that loss of humanity was not lost on me. 

At the farthest point up, just before one might start back down, there were (2) flags placed in the ground between a couple of rocks:  one was an American flag and the other was a P.O.W. flag.  I don’t typically swell up with American pride.  I have it: it’s just not in my nature to make a show of it.  And though I honor the troops in my own way, I don’t often consciously think about it.  Maybe it was that bitch of a hike and the heat or whatever, but when I saw those (2) flags dancing along the high breeze I was paralyzed.  I say a lot of things and think even more that I never say that would make most people think I hate this country.  I’m critical, yes.  But I love this country, and I don’t think that I have ever been more convinced of that fact than I was today sitting on top of that big rock watching those flags fly in silent tribute.  It was only then that I realized just how hallowed the ground upon which I rested was.

After that moment, the return hike was a breeze.

Today exceeded my expectations.  I don’t often take a day off and when I do I too often do nothing with it.  Today was an exception – I didn’t, for the first time in a long time, feel guilty about not being in the office.  And as it turns out, the world didn’t stop spinning because I was not there.  There’s a lesson here, right? 

I never found that gravel road I thought I was looking for, but I found a helluva lot more.  Today was a good day. 

My spirit is full.