The first time I camped on the Mills River, in the Pisgah National Forest, was maybe a quarter century ago. Perhaps longer.
We had done a hard slog over Black Mountain and arrived on the Mills as night was falling. It was cold and wet and we backpackers from the Florida flatlands were bone tired. We pitched out tents on the first patch of open ground we could find and tried to start a fire.
For the first, and last time to my knowledge, Louis, our Firemeister, was unable to get a warming blaze going. Too much rain had fallen.
The last time we hiked the South Mills River Trail was just about a decade ago. An early snow had covered the trees and the ground in white. Going in it was like walking through a winter wonderland. But by the time we got back to Turkey Pen Gap the snow had vanished.
Today we left Turkey Pen Gap and made the descent to the South Mills Trail once again.
It is one of my favorite hikes. It’s not a particularly challenging walk, but the river can be a hard neighbor when it has a mind too.
Once Buddy and I had hiked down with tents and bikes in the hope of doing some riverside mountain biking.
It stormed all night and into the morning. We finally packed our soggy trappings and wearily trudged back up to Turkey Pen Gap.
The Mills is a river for all seasons.
And we return whenever we get it into our heads to take a stroll along a wild river. In all kinds of weather.
I have often sat on its banks and contemplated life, the universe and everything. Indeed, it is hard not to do so, for the river fairly seduces you.
Oh, and the trail is popular with horse riders. So you have to, you know, watch where you are stepping.
Just a brief visit on this splendid autumn day. But I’m certain we will return. As we members of the Shining Rock Orienteering Society have returned so often before.
Indeed, how could we not?
FreeGNV 