Feb. 25, 2003

Alabama and Georgia passed me by in a blur. I was trying to outrun the weather reports and I had a clean window for highway time, so I blasted across this portion of the south, landing just below the Georgia/No. Carolina border. Unfortunately, I got off the road late, without much light, and didn’t have any time to explore the mountains of Northern Georgia, an area I’d wanted to visit for a long time. Still, I’ve been working on a writing project that involves old gristmills and, by chance, landed at a perfect accommodation.

Sylvan Falls Mill is an authentic, working gristmill, which has been in operation since 1840. Located in Rabun Gap, Georgia, it is run as a Bed and Breakfast by Linda and Mike Johnson, who offer four charming rooms, full breakfast, excellent hospitality, and a fascinating close-up look at the inner-workings of a mill. As if that’s not enough, a private waterfall on the property and a pastoral view of cows, fields, and an old red barn across the street make this quaint lodging a great rural getaway for those who are city-weary.

I stumbled in as the only guest on that particular evening, getting the coveted Waterfall Room, up a flight of stairs at the back of the house. With a pitched ceiling, lace curtains, stacks of books, and a candle beside the bed, this room had the makings of a secret attic hideaway.

A wood stove in a common room provided warmth, and I was able to hook up my laptop to a phone jack that provides Internet for one of the downstairs rooms, since it was empty that night. With online access, a warm fire, great hosts, and the sound of the waterfall outside, I was a happy camper.

Through a bay window across from the bed, I watched the water tumble down across granite boulders. I cracked the window open and listened to the sound of the cascading waterfall as I drifted off to sleep.

I’d entered snow territory by this time – not enough to make driving impossible, but enough that chilly winds and slippery ground greeted me in the morning. Still, I ventured outside to visit the cows across the street and to breathe in some of the crisp mountain air.

Linda served an exquisite breakfast of fresh fruit crepes (one apple, one banana, with coconut and chocolate) along with raisin scones, orange juice, and coffee. The china was Limoges and the food was delicious. In spite of the cold, I braved the outdoor porch for this meal. Enclosed with plastic for the winter and heated by a gas fireplace, it was warm enough to let me enjoy views of the waterfall as well as the 27-foot waterwheel of the mill, one of the largest in the country. Stained glass turtles and whales, bird feeders, and wind chimes added to the rustic feel of the porch-turned-breakfast-room.

After my morning feast, Mike gave me a tour of the mill itself, which is not used commercially. Here I got to see all the “mechanisms and technical stuff” up close. It was clear that he loves doing this, from the excitement and humor he wove into his fascinating presentation.

Mike and Linda both have backgrounds in the hospitality business from working in larger hotels in Key West, Florida. They’re thrilled to now live in a small mountain town and be able to offer this unique lodging experience to their guests. They’ll happily accommodate special dietary needs, they have rooms that allow pets, and the check-out time is not until noon. One unique—and only spread through word of mouth—feature is that they are bike-enthusiasts and have the plates needed for guests who arrive on bikes.

Another night, another inn. Sylvan Falls Mill is one I can easily recommend. Linda sent me on my way with a care package of extra raisin scones. I nibbled on them constantly as I made my way north, bound for—I would later find out—Asheville, North Carolina.