Mr. Write's Page

Every few weeks, I have a reason to drive down to the Mall of Georgia. The mall is about 25 miles south of Jefferson, on the northern edge of Metro Atlanta in Gwinnett County.

I have a long history with Gwinnett, dating back to the 1950s. My grandparents lived there. When I was in college, my parents lived there. My kids grew up there.

But eventually, what was once a pleasant, peaceful place got sold out to the developers in a spectacular way. Gwinnett quickly became just another appalling suburban nightmare.

Home to 600,000 souls, Gwinnett is the second most populous county in Georgia, behind Fulton County, which makes up most of Atlanta.

Gwinnett got to be what it is by systematically developing every possible acre, until it became an endless sea of residential subdivisions, apartment complexes, office complexes, and commercial establishments of every conceivable type.

Today, the traffic congestion and overcrowding in Gwinnett are horrific. You learn the acceptable secondary routes and the times of day to avoid certain places, or else. If possible, I go there only on weekends.

Ironically, in spite of being a vast expanse of pavement, the county has an award-winning parks and recreation program. Although not much remains in the way of undeveloped land, Gwinnett has tried hard (out of shame, perhaps) to work with the few narrow corridors of green that still exist.

The county has created a series of paved greenways for walking and biking. They’ve also built quite a few pocket parks around the county — although, unfortunately, they have a habit of constructing ball fields there, which necessitates the removal of more trees.

For the most part, the greenway corridors owe their existence to topography, not the husbandry of resources. Most of the corridors follow winding, steep-sided creeks; it was land that escaped development because it was not economical to exploit.

Which brings me back to the subject of driving down to the Mall of Georgia. I went there last Sunday to take a walk, for the first time, along the Ivy Creek Greenway.

I wrote about Ivy Creek back in 2009. You can read that post here.

The official name of the mall is The Mall of Georgia at Mill Creek — so named because a mill once operated at a small dam on Ivy Creek.

Today, Ivy Creek still manages to flow, largely unseen, around the southern end of the mall. It is there that the dam and the site of the mill are located, inside one of the looping entrance ramps to Interstate 85.

Several years ago, Gwinnett County built a greenway along Ivy Creek that allows access to, among other places, the dam and the site of the old mill. Although the spot is encircled by expressway ramps, the ramps sit atop immense concrete pilings. The greenway goes under them.

If you can tolerate the steady drone of traffic, and if seeing the tops of hotels, apartments, and various mall structures on the horizon is acceptable, then a stroll down the Ivy Creek Greenway isn’t so bad.

Sunday was calm and sunny and 70 degrees. Quietly and surreptitiously, I left my car in the parking lot of a nearby Marriott, and I followed a stairway of 50-plus concrete steps down, down, down to the greenway.

At the bottom of the steps, a young couple and three little kids were gearing up for a family bike ride. The man was strapping on helmets. The woman was setting the timer of her camera, preparing to place it on a rock and take a group photo.

“Do you want me to do that?” I asked.

She looked relieved, probably was hoping I would make the offer. “Would you mind? Thank you so much!”

With a tone of sarcasm, she added, too softly for the others to hear, “We can’t miss an opportunity to document everything we do.”

“Believe me,” I said, “Someday, you’ll be glad you have the photo.”

She shrugged, handed me the camera, and joined the group. They settled into position and turned on the smiles. All five wore matching green. All five bicycles were the same metallic brown. I took the photo, handed back and camera, and was on my way.

I walked east along the greenway, following the creek upstream. Although the day was warm, the leaves had fallen long ago, providing good views of the creek and the rocky hillside beyond.

No one was around when I came to the site of the old mill. I scampered down the bank to get a better look at the dam and the giant waterwheel rusting in the sand. I tried to imagine how the spot looked when the mill was in operation.

I continued walking east on the greenway, passing under I-85. I thought the noise would be overpowering, but it was only a distant rumble.

After about half a mile, the pavement of the greenway ended at a large, open gate. On the right was Ivy Creek. On the left, high up, was the back wall of a Mattress Factory. A gravel road continued east, but it was muddy. I decided to turn back.

I followed the greenway west, past the dam, past the Marriott, and past a couple of apartment complexes overlooking the numerous shoals on the creek. Plenty of walkers and bikers were out.

Beyond the apartments, I came to a long, soaring foot bridge that crosses the creek. On the other side, the greenway forks.

A runner came by, and I asked him if the main greenway went left or right. “Left goes to a dead end at the amphitheater,” he said, running in place. “The greenway goes right.” Then he was off again.

The greenway went uphill, under the hardwood canopy and away from the creek. When I reached the top of the hill, I saw two young girls, in their late teens or early 20s, walking together about 40 yards ahead. No one else was around. They were not yet aware of my presence.

They stopped next to a small bench. One of the girls sat down, and the other continued on. I could see that a short distance ahead, the greenway crossed a paved road; the second girl had gone to check it out.

When I got to within 10 yards of the girl on the bench, she turned in my direction. She looked startled, then quickly lowered her head and folded her hands in her lap.

She held that submissive posture as I reached the bench. “Hi!” I said cheerily.

She didn’t look up, didn’t move.

“It’s a beautiful day to be out,” I added hopefully.

No response.

“Okay. Well, have a nice day,” I said. I continued down the greenway, puzzled by her behavior.

Up ahead, the second girl was coming in my direction. When we passed, I smiled and said hello.

She looked up and smiled, but said nothing.

Well, I thought, at least she made eye contact. What an odd pair. Odd and rude.

A few moments later, where the greenway crossed the paved road, I turned and looked back toward the bench.

The two girls stood there, facing each other, communicating energetically.

In sign language.

The old waterwheel below the dam on Ivy Creek.

View of the southern edge of the Mall of Georgia. The dam can be seen to the left of the red X. The greenway passes below the dam.