Much is owed to the skillful mill wrights and enterprising millers who made this possible. A new bridge a few hundred yards upstream from the national forest public campgrounds near Hammond's Mill whisks motorists high over the water today. Old timers tell what it was like when the only roads along the river were rutted wagon tracks, and bridges and ferries were unheard of, when long, hard journeys were involved in getting to the half dozen mills that operated at one time or another along the North Fork. Beyond the rushing waters below Hammond's Mill, the river returns briefly to a wide, calm expanse of water, with rugged limestone bluffs towering above. Some rock formations project over the water.
Every ledge is crowded with mosses, broadleaf plants and colorful wildflowers.
Spring water trickles from fractures in the rocks. Many eons have passed since these limestone deposits were formed in the bed of an ocean, heaved up, then imperceptibly worn away to form the walls we see today. Untold generations of living creatures have found shelter in their crumbly niches. As I drifted with the current, I found that the air above the water also flows along with the river, with noticeable pools and eddies that are shaped and channeled by the surrounding terrain. Several times I drifted into fragrant pockets of air that flowed out of lush groves of oak, dogwood and sycamore trees along the banks.