As the thunder rolled and the thermometer promised to not rise above 65 degrees, our first fly fishing trip together had all the makings of a wet and miserable adventure. The day was young however and to be fair, it was unseasonably warm at this altitude.
After checking the water conditions on a few of my favorite streams, we found them all to be in good repair. The next step was to find a place to park our worn out carcases for the night. Since we had Samuel with us (the bad golden retriever) finding a comfortable room at a reasonable rate seemed impossible. I checked with a small motor lodge I stayed a few times before (without the bad dog) but they did not allow pets. The next hotel they referred us to accepted pets but were booked solid for the weekend. The manager was kind enough to tell me of a bed and breakfast located just across the river in Spruce Pine.
Spruce Pine, North Carolina is a wonderful little mountain town with a population of about 2,175 people and situated on the North Toe river. Like a lot of North Carolina’s mountain towns, it is a great place to visit as time just seems to stand still. But even with all of the beautiful scenery, it’s always the people who make me want to return. some of the friendliest folks on the face of the earth.
So I called the inn and asked if they had any rooms for the night and could they accommodate my dog and I was told that they could. So we decided to take a look at it and see if we would stay. A short drive later and we pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous, turn of the century country estate just three blocks above the town of Spruce Pine and over looking the river. Ms. Haskell told me our room would be ready by the time we got in from fishing and not to worry if we were late, the key would be in the door.
After a long, hard day of fighting fish and the elements, we figured we would head back to the room to get cleaned up and go to dinner. When we got in, Shari was blown away by the quaint, homely feel of the inn.
A separate bath, queen size beds in a spacious room tastefully decorated with functional antiques. Lying in bed with the windows slightly open and the ceiling fan gently circulating the night air, as the down comforters fend off the cold, it was easy to shut out the world and slip first into a sense of nostalgia and then reluctantly to sleep.
The Richmond Inn is not a place staffed with well-meaning employees paid to care and smile. This is Ms. Haskell’s home and it has all the feel of a caring family waiting to greet you like a long-lost friend they haven’t seen in a while.
There is a danger however in visiting this inn. Once you go, you do not want to leave. It’s as if a part of you remains and you feel incomplete until you return. Oh, by the way, the breakfast is prepared, not poured from a big can of something or other. Simple, nutritious and served with all the care your grandma would take.
So please, do yourselves a favor…visit this link and maybe even the inn. I cannot express enough thanks to the Haskell family for making my bride to be feel at home.