Located in Cashiers, The High Hampton has a rich history that dates back more than 2,000 years. Once, Cherokee Indians roamed the valley, followed by French fur traders and, ultimately, whites who settled the land as a summer retreat from heat and humidity in the early 19th century. Built by General Wade Hampton, one of the Civil War’s most colorful generals, in 1892 ownership passed to Dr. William Stewart Halstead, a surgeon known for his pioneering use of anesthesia (a group of doctors still holds an annual retreat here). In 1922, businessman E.L. McKee purchased High Hampton and it has remained in the family ever since. The current owner, Will McKee, warmly greeted me during Sunday lunch.

Named one of the best 100 best family resorts in North America, the 1,400-acre estate is located 3,600 feet above sea level in the Blue Ridge Mountains. A member of the Historic Hotels of America, the National Trust for Historic Preservation and the National Register of Historic Places, the High Hampton is situated in a peaceful valley featuring a 35-acre lake and sandy beach and a hiking trail with history markers. There’s no TV or phones in the main inn (cottages have both), but plenty to do. In addition to a children’s program, in warm months there is fishing, boating, golf, tennis, bocce, horseshoes and badminton. Oh — and two miniature donkey, Fred and Ed, in a pasture next to fairway #9.

It’s the end of the season when my friend Laura and I visit, so our activities largely consist of rocking on the front porch, walking, board games, reading and dining. It’s a companionable setting: pumpkins decorate the inn, leaves crunch underfoot, sunset comes early, times passes slowly, far more slowly than in Atlanta.

The friendly, hard-working staff hails from 15 different countries and participates in a school/work co-op program with the local community college. Three times a day they put out generous buffets in the dining room. I’m not sure where they find such ripe, red tomatoes in November, but I pile them onto my plate, along with other comfort foods like fried chicken, baked trout, squash, New York strip and apple fritters.

Social season is summer, but many couples and families have gotten to know each other over the years and seek each other out, stopping to greet each other and longtime servers tableside. Every guest is assigned a table for the duration of her stay and a table tent lists her last name and hometown. Two 60-something gals from Chattanooga send their husbands ahead to the tavern and come over to introduce themselves. There’s such a sense of hospitality from both the other guests and the staff that we feel like members of an extended family.

After dinner the first night, Laura and I each buy a $1 bingo card. A fire is roaring in the main room. The plaid couches are filled with kids and adults all exclaiming Oh yes as Denny, the versatile waiter/bellboy/bingo master calls the lucky numbers. I consider it a stroke of great luck that both Laura and I each win a pot, $13 and $17, respectively. It’s a wholesome evening, evoking childhood me memories of sleep-away camp. We realize we’re part of a long-standing tradition, as surely as the chestnut timbers, as we climb the stairs to our room with its screen door, comfy beds, pine paneling and twig furniture. In deference to the rhythm of the place, we put lights out early.

The following morning, in the pre-dawn hours, the smell of morning coffee wafts through an open window—that’s the “wake-up” call. Shortly thereafter, I’m off to the Heath Club & Spa for an hour-long therapeutic massage. My back is sore from cleaning my basement, but the therapist, Troy (who happens to be blind) quickly finds the tension knots and releases them with practiced hands.

We settle into the three-room Schoolhouse Cabin, which really was a schoolhouse for our final night, where Laura and I practice our fire-building skills, feeding logs to the crackling flames throughout the afternoon. Nestled in the woods, its quiet, quieter than in the main lodge and we relish the silence.

As the sun slips from the sky we throw on fleeces and jeans and head to the Rock Mountain Tavern, in the lodge’s lower level. Amidst the charm of mismatched leather sofas and green walls, we sip bourbon and martinis before heading upstairs for an early dinner.

We leave the property only once during our weekend visit, heading to Highlands to The Instant Theatre Company. Seated in director’s chairs in a modest room with surprisingly good acoustics, we enjoy the music of guitarist and songwriter Jack Williams. Driving the mountain-darkened roads back The High Hampton, we sigh with pleasure, words unnecessary. I curl up on the sofa, snuggling under a chenille bedspread; Laura stretches out in a chair. Warmed by the fire, the comfort of our friendship and the ease of this place, we declare our intention to visit every season.

If You Go Cashiers is located 150 miles north of Atlanta, about a two hour drive. The inn is open from late April through mid November, with a limited number of cottages open year round. Visit HighHamptonInn.com or call 1-800-334-2551.

A former Navy brat who traveled and lived abroad extensively, Suzanne Wright is a fulltime, freelance writer based in Atlanta. She is a member of NATJA, and ASJA, and has written numerous travel, food and decor features for numerous international, national and regional publications. Her articles have appeared in Elite Traveler, Wine & Spirits, Veranda, Atlanta Magazine, The Tennessean, Atlanta Homes & Lifestyles, Piedmont Review, Charlotte Place, Where, On Magazine and others. A suitcase is always packed and her passport always up to date.

Photos courtesy of High Hampton Inn

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