Now, if you know me, you know I work like a mule in planting season—day,
night, and weekends. It ain’t that I don’t love a little downtime, it’s just that
real estate never takes a nap here in one of the most magical corners of
God’s green earth. But when I do get a moment to slip away, you won’t find
me lounging on some couch watching the world go by. No sir, I head
straight to one of our pristine mountain lakes, rod in hand, heart set on a
little peace, and maybe—just maybe—a fish worth telling a tale about.

Now, let me tell y’all about Bear Lake, Wolf Creek Lake, and Cedar Cliff
Lake, nestled in the folds of the Blue Ridge, just outside my hometown of
Sylva, North Carolina. But before we get too deep into that, I got a fish
story to share, and like all good ones, it’s best told with a little dramatic flair.

It was one of those spring days that poets dream about—clouds hanging
like wisps of cotton, a gentle breeze whispering through the trees, and the
lake stretched out like a perfect sheet of glass. My good friend David and I
were trolling along, just under Sols Creek Waterfall, a stunning 120-foot
cascade straight out of a postcard. We were working our way around when
I suddenly felt the telltale tug on my line.

"Dang," I said, "I’m hung up."

David, ever the optimist, told me to wiggle it loose, and just as I did—boom!
"Fish on!"

Now, at first, I thought I’d snagged an old sunken log, but the moment I
started reeling, I knew this was something special. The fight was on. That
walleye had grit, and as his eye broke the surface, it was like he was
looking right at me, tipping his hat, acknowledging defeat. When I finally
hauled him in, I measured him at a whopping 24 inches—the kind of catch
that makes a fisherman puff his chest out just a little more at the dock. It’s a
day I will never forget!

But here’s the thing about fishing. It ain't just about the fish. It’s about the
stillness, the birds singing their timeless melodies, the hawks and eagles
patrolling overhead like they have since time began. It’s about catching a
glimpse of a black bear along the shoreline or, if you’re real lucky, watching
one take a swim across the lake like he owns the place—which, let’s be
honest, he probably does, and to spend time with those you cherish and
love.
Now onto the lakes…

If there’s a lake in these mountains that’s got a little something for
everyone, it’s Bear Creek Lake, a.k.a. Bear Lake. Tucked deep in the heart
of the Blue Ridge, this hidden gem isn’t just a fishing paradise—it’s a
playground for paddlers, skiers, and families looking to soak up the good
life. Kayakers and canoeists glide across the glassy surface, slipping into
hidden coves where the only sound is the whisper of the breeze through
the trees and the many cascades from the creeks and streams that feed
the lake. Families laugh and splash in the cool, clear water, while water
skiers carve across the lake, leaving ribbons of white spray in their wake.

And the views? Lord have mercy, they’re enough to make you want to drop
anchor and just sit a while. Rolling ridgelines stretch out in every direction, painted in a hundred shades of green in the summer and ablaze with fiery
reds and golds come fall. Whether you’re casting a line, paddling a kayak,
or just floating on your back, staring up at that big Carolina sky, Bear Lake
has a way of making the world slow down. And isn’t that what we’re all
after?

Bear Lake is the largest of the East Fork lakes, part of the Duke Power
Nantahala system, with nearly 500 acres of pristine water and 13.5 miles of
shoreline. Big enough for a lazy day of paddling, small enough to explore
without feeling lost. And let me tell you, that cold mountain water hits
different on a hot summer day. Whether you're here to fish, boat, swim or
just breathe in that crisp Blue Ridge air, this lake is a balm for the soul.

I think I mentioned it before, but it deserves to be told again. And then,
there’s Sols Creek Waterfall—a jaw-dropping, magical backdrop straight
out of a dream, cascading 120 feet down into a rocky gorge before spilling
into the creek that winds its way to the lake. The sound of rushing water
echoes through the trees, blending with the whisper of the breeze, making
it one of the most enchanting spots you’ll ever lay eyes on. With numerous
creeks feeding into the lake and trails weaving through the wilderness,
there’s no shortage of places to explore—just don’t forget to tie up the boat
before you wander off.

But Bear Lake is just the beginning. There are two more mountain lakes I
hold near and dear—each with its own charm and secrets to tell.

If Bear Lake is the big brother, Wolf Creek Lake is the quiet, thoughtful one.
Sitting at 183 acres, it’s tucked away just enough that you’ll feel like you’ve
found something special. There’s something about this place—maybe it’s
the way the mist clings to the water in the early mornings, or the way the
fish seem just a little wilier, like they know they’re in a place only the
dedicated will find.

Interestingly, Wolf Creek Lake connects to its little sister, Tanasee Creek
Lake, through an underground tunnel blasted straight through solid rock.
Now, if that ain’t a conversation starter, I don’t know what is. The water
here runs a bit cloudier, thanks to a healthy dose of algae, but the fishing?
Oh, it’s just fine. Trout, bass, and the occasional walleye lurk beneath the
surface, waiting for an angler with enough patience and skill to reel them in.

And then there’s Cedar Cliff Lake, the smallest of the bunch, but don’t let its
size fool you. What it lacks in acreage, it makes up for in charm. This lake
is perfect for those who prefer the serenity of a kayak or canoe over the
hum of a motor. It’s where I go when I want to strip things back to the
essentials—a rod, a line, and the slow, deliberate rhythm of the water.

Cedar Cliff feeds into the Tuckasegee River, or "The Tuck" as the locals call
it, a whole other fishing paradise for another day’s story. Here, you’ll find
largemouth bass, black crappie, and bluegill, all swimming in some of the
cleanest, freshest mountain water you’ll ever dip a toe in.

Now, I’ve told you about these lakes—their beauty, their secrets, their fish.
But let’s be real—fishing ain’t just about the fish. It’s about stepping away
from the madness of life, breathing in air so crisp and pure it feels like a
fresh start with every breath. It’s about those quiet moments when the only
sound is the lap of water against the boat, the cry of an eagle overhead,
and maybe—just maybe—the splash of a walleye breaking the surface.

But here’s the thing—these lakes aren’t just my getaway. They’re also my
office, so to speak. As the most knowledgeable real estate broker in these
parts, I don’t just know the best fishing holes—I know where to find the best
opportunities for making this mountain paradise your home. So, if you’re
intrigued, if you can already picture yourself casting a line at sunrise or
watching the mist roll off the ridgelines with your morning coffee, give me a
call. I’ll show you my favorite fishing spots and the finest places to put down
roots.

And if you have a hard time finding me this spring, it’s probably because
I’m out chasing my next great fishing tale—hooked once again on the thrill
of the catch and the peace of the water. It’s downright addicting. Maybe I’ll
see you out there. And if you do spot me, don’t be shy—just remember,
life’s too short to work all the time.

And now you know why I tell everyone… “It’s Another World Up Here!”

Tight lines, my friend.

Bernie