Connie Cannon, known here as MathAddict, has returned from her trip to the Georgia Guidestones and has provided a fascinating report of her experience. For those of you who missed the earlier post in which we wrote about the Guidestones, these five slabs of granite rocks – carved with script in several languages – are considered the most mysterious monument in the U.S. No one knows who created it or why.
While researching the Guidestones, we contacted Connie who used to live in Georgia just to ask if she knew about the monument. To our surprise, not only had she heard of them, but she was headed to see them in a few days, a stop en route to a wedding in northern Georgia.
She was hoping for something mysterious to happen, and she wasn’t disappointed. Here’s her story.
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The trip couldn’t have been more refreshing, especially for me. A cold front ushered in the first autumn frost of the season a few hours after we arrived at our motel in Dillard, with low temperatures in the mid-thirties and highs in the mid-sixties. Gorgeous clear skies every day, stars close enough to reach up and touch every night.
The Georgia Guidestones. Oh geez. I don’t even know if I can find words to adequately describe that experience, so will just jump in and try to put it all in sequence.
There were seven of us in two vehicles: hubby, me, our middle son Kenny, our youngest son, his wife, and our two little grandsons who are ages three and six.
Our usual route up U.S.1 takes us directly through downtown Elberton, and the Guidestones are located about nine miles north of there, on a piece of acreage near GA State Road 77. Driving along the two-lane road, we finally spotted the monument off to our right.
We drove up a slightly paved old country road, and there they were.
Topographically, the Georgia Guidestrones are erected on the highest point in that county. They stand on a concrete base situated on a green grassy knoll that is perfectly level at its center. The grass is obviously manicured, neatly mowed. On three sides around the knoll, there is a hedge of shrubbery also obviously kept beautifully manicured to a height of about four feet. The fourth side, where we parked our vehicles, is simply a small gravel area with space for about four vehicles, and the gravel has railroad ties preventing tires from touching the grass. Outside the shrubbery hedge, and even behind the small parking area, there are open fields of tall grass, and no trees.
There was no one else there. As I stepped out of our SUV, the first thing I noticed was that there was no sound. No normal birdsongs, no insects chirping or flying, (very unusual in such an environment), not even road noise. The second thing I noticed was that, looking across the field towards 77 and across it, there were two white geodesic domes on another knoll. I tried to visually measure the distance between the stones and the two domes, and it was approximately nine acres. (Later, when we left and got onto 77 again, I looked for a road to the domes but there was none. Weird.)
Our little boys were running wild after being in their van for three hundred miles, but there was nothing there to hurt them or that they could hurt, so we allowed them to play. I stood by our vehicle for several minutes, just observing what my eyes could take in and waiting to see if I sensed or felt anything unusual besides the utter stillness of the place.
To the right of the Stones perhaps twelve feet from the edge of the monument, there is a plaque, probably twelve feet by twelve feet square, flat on the ground. According to the inscription, underneath this marker is buried a time capsule. No date is written on the plaque for digging out and opening up the capsule. Nor is there any kind of clue what might be inside it. It seems the only person who knows is (was) ‘R.C. Christian,’ the mysterious man who ordered the monument built and promptly disappeared, and the local businessman/granite company owner, who is deceased. On the other side of the monolith is a tilted pedestal holding a large plaque upon which is engraved the history of the Guidestones.
As an aside, the bible-belt evangelical graffiti, mentioned in the earlier post, has been removed. We were told by a black gas station attendant that every time graffiti appears on the Stones, it is somehow erased. The city has even put cameras at each corner around the knoll, but the cameras have never been able to capture who erases the graffiti. Yet they catch the people who put it there and are able to locate them. The mysterious “erasers?” They simply have no idea, and the townsfolk seem to be afraid to go there now in spite of the fact that no one has ever been harmed or threatened at the site.
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In tomorrow’s post, Connie takes us up-close to the Guidestones, which seem to literally come alive with energy. Then, before she leaves, she encounters a man who has a startling affect on her, and who even seems to affect the photos that her son is taking. You’ll see a dramatic difference in the appearance of the Guidestones in the photo accompanying the post.
