The air hints that frost is not far away, the sky turns cobalt blue, and sunlight takes on a brilliant clarity. Everything seems more beautiful when autumn arrives, and soon, fall colors will draw people to the mountains on their annual pilgrimage to the mountains.

We wouldn't be blessed to have mountains nearby had not two continental plates collided beneath North America 250 million years ago. When they met, they shoved the Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountains up. Rain, sleet, snow, ice, heat, and wind then went to work weathering rocks, cutting drops and gorges, forging a land destined to please those who love fall foliage and waterfalls. This folded land—cloaked in many hues and running white with rapids and waterfalls— draws millions come October and November.

It seems like forever ago that my family made trips to the mountains. We'd pile into Dad's big van and head up to Rabun Gap, Franklin, North Carolina, Brevard, and nearby points making sure we hit the Dillard House for a meal before heading back home. Sometimes we headed up toward the Blue Ridge Parkway. Trips like these afforded opportunities to buy treasures from the hills: mountain apples, cabbages, and jars of honey.

I have good memories from those days. Once, for instance, we were having breakfast just off the Blue Ridge Parkway when it began to snow. Swirling white flakes and fall colors make a hard-to-beat treat.

We'd stop at ruby mines and sift bags of dirt in sluices looking for semiprecious stones. Once I found a 75-carat garnet on a mining adventure.

I recall seeing a small sign nearly obscured by rhododendron that said "Eastern Continental Divide." Right at that spot where our van crested a summit, water on one side flowed to the Gulf of Mexico; on the other, to the Atlantic, an amazing thing.

On another trip we approached the headwaters of the mighty Chattooga, which flows south and into literature as well, courtesy of James Dickey's descriptions. "It was gray-green, very clear and yet with a certain milkiness, too; it looked as though it would turn white and foam at rocks more easily than other water"

And what was it like to take a canoe down the Chattooga? "It was like riding on a river of air. The rocks flickered around and under us, then sand, the rocks, changing colors into each other, as we streamed through."

Sightseeing, good food, and just the knowledge of knowing you're taking a special trip. For me, the mountains mean all that. Our nearby mountains offer much to do and see. Take the abundant waterfalls. In Rabun County alone, you'll find spectacular falls with names like Minnehaha, Angel, Oceana, Panther, and Hemlock. And, of course, there's the splendid Tallulah Gorge State Park and its Tempesta Falls. Toccoa Falls in Stephens County plummet 186 feet, quite a sight.

And I can't exclude the North Carolina gorge the Cherokee called Nantahala, which means "Land of the Noonday Sun." The Cherokee so named this gorge because the walls on either side of the river tower so tall that only the noon sun's direct light can shine into it.

Fall color is surely on its way. All we need is a good cold snap to set the leaves. Plan a day trip. Consider a trek into the mountains this fall. After all, a lot of folks live nowhere near mountains. We're blessed to have mountains and seasons. A friend of mine who once lived in Florida said what he missed most were the seasons. And you can have mountains and still not have fall colors.

Mountains along the equator are clamorous, extreme places, often places where mists dampen the skin and clothes. Everything is wet. Orchids, bromeliads, mosses, and ferns cover the trees. Where sunlight slants in, brilliant flowers prosper. It sounds pretty but fall foliage? No.

Here, due to our latitude, we get the best of both worlds: mountains and dazzling fall foliage. So the time to make some memories is coming. Get together as a family and make a mountain road trip. Grill steaks out by a cold river strewn with boulders, a fleck of white water here and there.

Need some motivation? First, make the trip in your mind. Imagine you've driven up where the elevation makes a decided difference. It's deliciously cool. You've driven out of flatland country into the rarified air of the North Georgia Mountains. Across the graveled parking area, you see a picturesque wooden sign saying "waterfall." Getting out, you notice right away just how Hemlock and spruce spice the air. Birds flit through boughs like sprites. It's Georgia but it doesn't seem like Georgia.

You strike off on a rocky twisting path. A mist seems to build. Ahead comes a roar, understated but growing ... a few more turns and the air thunders and shakes and mists chill the wind. Then you see it: a majestic drapery of water pounding a bed of granite. The classic unmovable object and the irresistible force, and you behold it here in autumn mountains.

Think of fall colors as one of our planet's better moods. An explosion of cinnamon, orange, lavender, red, and purple upon the Earth's face sure beats an angry hurricane. More than that, I think of mountains and fall colors as a special place during special times. From them, came lasting memories.

Email Tom with feedback and ideas for new columns. tompol @earthlink.net