I have a really bad habit of purposely not getting directions before adventuring out on a road trip.  For me, the challenge of figuring it out overcomes all need for the security found in written directions.  Sadly, this hobby is not shared with the same enthusiasm by my wife.

Many years ago horribly lost on a bitterly cold winter’s day while traveling through the mountains of North Georgia, we stopped for directions finding ourselves desperately lost. To our surprise we happened upon a dilapidated gas station with an old man sitting inside on a rocking chair.  We told him of our predicament to which he hardly broke his stare on the horizen.  He said we should to go up the road a piece and turn at the big pile of rocks. That’s it, that’s all he said as he drifted back into his deep concentration of the distance before him.  As sophisticated city folks we quickly brushed off his help quickly and got back into our car and searched for another place to get directions. As we traveled for more insight we suddenly saw before us a huge pile of rocks, amazed just like the man had described, we reluctantly turned as advised and soon found ourselves on the way to our eventual destination.

Many years later we moved to the North Georgia mountains and one day while exploring the many vineyards in the area, what did we happen upon? The same pile of rocks.

Turns out it’s a major landmark of the area.


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