In our ‘lith’ era

Tom is going through his megalith stage. Stonehenge. Göbekli Tepe. Puma Punku. They’re “big rocks” to you and me, but to the megalith lover, they’re objects of wonder, suffused with magic. So when I came across a park in New Jersey called Pyramid Mountain, featuring three especially charismatic rock formations, I knew Tom would be all in, even if it meant taking the horrible no-good State Route 23. Sacré bleu! There’s no avoiding this cursed highway and its merge-or-die drivers, cheered on by inflatable tube men. Can we really be approaching a wilderness trail? I asked, as the car dealerships metastasized. Just then Tom turned onto Boonton Avenue Road. We were soon in a much different world.

Forget Stonehenge – we are surrounded by beguiling megaliths, thanks to the glacier that brought them here and the people who save them from development. The United Southern and Eastern Tribes calls these places Ceremonial Stone Landscapes – or, more poetically, “prayers in stone” – that have sustained their ancestors’ “reliance on Mother Earth and the spirit energies of balance and harmony.” Indian Rock in Suffern, N.Y, and Split Rock in Mahwah, N.J., are just two examples rescued from development in recent years.

Pyramid Mountain was saved in the 1980s by a couple of elderly hikers, Lucy and Karl Meyer. After whipping up support for their cause, the preservation committee they founded purchased the park’s first 11 acres; that year, President Reagan presented Lucy with a “Take Pride in America Award” on the White House Lawn. Hikers now have 1,500 acres and 19 miles of trail to explore, including a scenic viewpoint named “Lucy’s Overlook.”

We headed straight for the rock formations. Whale Rock, Bear Rock, and Tripod Rock are all arrayed along a pleasant loop trail. We had the mountain to ourselves – except for one other couple we glimpsed from time to time through the trees. They were in young middle age. Both wore Bermuda shorts, fanny packs and fluffy white sneakers. Like cute salt-and-pepper shakers, I thought. They were still getting to know each other – “You went to Montclair?” “Hope you like egg salad!” – and clearly hitting it off. “Wow!” “Totally!” “Me too!”

We weren’t sure Whale Rock was Whale Rock when we came across it: a sizable “lith,” to be sure, but not especially mega. It did have the smooth, tapered head of a killer whale, snout up, breaking the water.

Bear Rock declared itself more emphatically. Morris County says it’s the largest glacial erratic in the state, and who am I to argue? Its graceful balancing act, like a giant egg in a tiny cup, makes this house-sized hunk pretty special.

Then came the mountain’s most celebrated formation, Tripod Rock. The glacier plopped a massive horizontal rock atop three small ones – think of a Brazil nut coming to rest on three pistachios after the ice cream melts. It looked precarious, improbable. We solemnly reflected on this gift of Deep Time before moving a short distance away to eat lunch.

The salt-and-pepper-shaker couple soon came into view and, not surprisingly, were equally delighted with Tripod Rock. They took pictures – of the rocks, each other, themselves – then spread out directly underneath to eat their egg salads.

Carl Jung was fascinated by the immutability of rocks, as universal symbols of eternity. He also understood that, in the ancient imagination, they are alive with spirits. I grew anxious watching the couple sprawled under the rock. Just one mischievous spirit. Just one tiny tremor, and poof. Gone. Leaving only their ghosts to haunt this place, in those shorts, forevermore.

I leapt to my feet. Fate does not like to be tempted! You’re too innocent, too happy, too silly to understand the danger you’re in. When two people find each other – how often does that happen in this crazy life? Find someone who is happy to climb a mountain with you? Someone who laughs at your jokes? Who appreciates a good fanny pack? I held my tongue.

“Look at me!” said the man, throwing out his arms and legs in an expression of pure joy. Flattening himself on the ground for better squishing.

“And me!” said the woman, following suit.

Returning to the trail, we passed the pair and exchanged cheery hellos. They looked at us with pity, the way only people madly in love can look at you. So sorry you’re not us, the look said.

I was not sorry. But I did feel better. Deus non laedit amantes, saith the ancients. God does not harm lovers. The rock stayed put. We headed home.

SNEAK PEEK

The Morris County Parks Department calls this loop the Glacial Erratic Hike. It can be reached from the Pyramid Mountain Natural Historic Area’s main parking lot and visitor center (472 Boonton Ave., Montville Township, NJ) or from the ballfields at Boonton Ave. Field two miles to the north (1 Fayson Lakes Rd., Kinnelon, NJ).

The trails are named mostly for their blaze color. We parked at the ballfields and followed the Green Trail three-quarters of a mile to the white-blazed Kinnelon-Butler Trail. After another quarter-mile we reached the loop, which is 4 miles and blazed orange; to reach Whale Rock first, we turned right. NB: A small section of the loop’s southern end is blazed blue.