I pulled into the empty trailhead parking lot, surprised to see no other cars around. It was overcast and damp, the air heavy with the promise of rain. A perfect day for adventure! Perhaps I’d have the whole park to myself for a spell?

I took a deep breath as I headed up the trail. The spruce trees emitted a lovely scent that promised Christmas was just around the corner. Upwards I hiked, silently laughing at the squirrels frantically preparing for the cold weather season.

Off in the distance, rose the majestic Stone Mountain, the namesake of this particular park. It can be seen from miles, but looks especially daunting up close. The mountain is a granite dome of exposed rock with brushstrokes of browns and blacks decorating it in vertical strokes. The barren sides are perfect for rock climbing, but no climbers could be spotted from my perch along the trail. In fact, I still hadn’t seen another human despite having begun my explorations hours ago.

I stumbled upon an exposed slab of granite that tilted ever-so-gently downwards. I carefully began walking down the side of the slope, enjoying the glorious display of mosses and lichens. At one point, I realized that going back up the slick slab might be a challenge, so I had to redirect my route and walk at an awkward angle for a quarter mile until I refound the trail.

Towards the end of the hike, I ended up on a historical homestead with various signs explaining what life would have been like living in this area 200 years ago. It was a nice change of pace, ambling slowly through the old buildings and learning about the people who used to call Stone Mountain home.

Hours later, I returned to my car, and finally spotted another human being. I enjoyed my solo foray into nature on a seemingly gloomy day that brought a lot of unexpected joy. I looked at the mountain in my rearview mirror as I drove out of the park, content to have made its acquaintance.