Atlanta Magazine • Atlanta Magazine August 2025 • Editor’s Journal

A few years back, I was telling my best friend about the most exotic restaurant I’d ever visited. It was inside a glacier on top of the Swiss Alps, and the floor, walls, and ceiling were solid ice. I was 12 years old at the time, and I remember nothing about the food. But I do remember being in awe of my surroundings and astonished when I saw people outside getting ready to ski down a slope, shirtless and in shorts.

My friend is a gay woman and I am a straight man three decades her senior. On the surface, we would seem to have nothing in common. Yet our connection was instantaneous and grew deep. We’ve gone on numerous road trips together, sharing a wanderlust to explore the world around us.

One of our favorite places is Cumberland Island. We’ve always gone in January, when the air is crisp and the beaches empty. I remember sitting by the ocean eating lunch and being swarmed by hungry, hopeful seagulls. We sat there soaking in the moment for more than two hours before we saw another human being. Paradise.

We’ve also gone kayaking on the Etowah River through the pristine Dawson Forest. It is a beautiful daylong journey, and not without the occasional adventure. On one trip, we got caught in a heavy storm and feverishly paddled toward the pickup spot with lightning strikes and thunder booms right on top of us.

Our first time on the Etowah, the driver who took us to the load-in spot warned us that we’d be encountering a Class 4 waterfall. He said when we reached it, we should go to the right side of the river and portage. I assumed that my friend, as a kayaking veteran, knew what portage meant. Well, no. She thought I would know.

We heard the roar of the waterfall before we reached the bend leading to it. But to the right was a spot with a single seven-foot drop. We parked for a moment on top of a boulder to ponder our alternatives. We could pull our kayaks onto the bank and drag them past the rapids, which seemed like too much work. Or we could paddle over the waterfall. We elected to paddle, figuring this was the portage place and that’s what everyone did.

She went first. I counted down 30 seconds in case her kayak had overturned. As I approached the waterfall, I was relieved to see she was safe and sound. Then I had an “Oh, my God” moment; up close, the boulders at the base of the waterfall were menacing and dangerous. But there was no turning back. I grabbed the handles on the sides of the kayak and held on for dear life. What’s that phrase about God taking care of fools and babies?

When the driver picked us up and we casually mentioned that we’d successfully navigated a Class 4 waterfall with the sit-on-top kayaks, his face turned ashen. I later noticed the outfitters had taken all references to portage off their website. Their blurb now read in language a five-year-old could understand: “Pull your kayak out of the water and drag it past the waterfall.”

It was during one of those trips on the Etowah that I reminisced about my lunch inside a glacier. My friend said that was strange: Her father had talked about once going to a restaurant exactly like that.

She asked why I’d been to the Alps. I explained that I was part of a group tour billed as a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, plus seven days in Europe. It was marketed to Atlanta-area churches, and my pastor had chaperoned me.

My friend gasped. That was her grandfather’s company; he was the guide on every trip. At one stop in the Middle East, we all had to double up at a hotel stop. My roommate for the night was the only other kid in our group: the tour leader’s son . . . the future father of my best friend.

Some 40 years later, she and I were sitting by a river in the wilds of Georgia, eating lunch.

Fall is approaching, and perhaps it’s time for another road trip to kayak the Etowah. One never knows what wonders or magic the river has in store.

Catherine Jones
Salsa Is Taking Over Metro
Atlanta, page 22
A Taste of Peru, page 44

A bilingual writer and editor, Jones’s work has appeared in the Washington Post Magazine, People, Motherly, Huck, and numerous other outlets.

Melton is a documentary and portrait photographer based in Atlanta. Her work often focuses on social issues and always relies on an earnest connection with her subjects. Commercial projects have taken her across the globe, while she continues to document people and stories closer to home.

Picard has called Atlanta home for 12 years. A lifestyle journalist, she frequently contributes to Atlanta magazine as well as the New York Times, Garden & Gun, and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, among other regional and national publications. When she’s not writing, she’s exploring Atlanta and nearby destinations with her family.