The first time we visited this part of North Georgia, we didn’t come to build something. We just came to breathe.

We followed winding roads into the high hills, passed rust-colored gates, and crossed streams so cold they seemed unchanged since the Ice Age. That was when we stumbled across Mulberry Gap, a small but mighty mountain biking outpost already serving as a basecamp for rugged adventure in the Cohutta Wilderness. Their ethos was clear: adventure, basecamp, and welcome.

They had laid the first stone in what felt like a forgotten frontier—one not built for commerce or clout, but for those still drawn to wildness. We didn’t know it then, but that visit would change the course of our lives.

A year later, serendipity had its way, and we bought what was to become the Sherpa Camp.

And soon after, we moved in full time.

We Lived Here First

Sherpa Camp wasn’t built as a business.

It was built as a home.

We lived here through every season—summer thunderstorms, fall’s golden maples, and the kind of cold, quiet winters where the creek smokes at sunrise and the stars come out like frost. Our days were simple and full: hauling firewood, cooking barefoot, listening to the barred owls call through the trees.

The Cohuttas became our backyard, and we backed them again and again—on foot, by headlamp, with muddy boots and a second thermos of coffee. We slept near Jacks River, filtered from high creeks fishing for wild trout, and followed lost CCC roads until they disappeared into moss.

This is Georgia’s last true wilderness, and it shaped us.

There are no lights out here. No hum of traffic.

Just 95,000 acres of ridgelines, trout streams, rhododendron tunnels, and old stories still echoing in the rock.

Scout Revival Was Always in Us

We didn’t call it Scout Revival in the beginning. But that’s what it was. We grew up loving the old things:

Canvas tents.

Metal mess kits.

Field & Stream stacks in the garage.

Boy Scout handbooks filled with sketches of knots and trail signs.

Sleeping bags that smelled like pine smoke and plastic cups that never matched.

There was something sacred in that simplicity—a rugged, ordinary beauty that still lingers in the right kind of place. Not curated. Not designed. Just true.

So we built the cabin in that spirit.

We put in a king bed and a triple bunk.

A propane fireplace that works even when the power doesn’t.

Lanterns in the bunk room. Starlink when needed, but always optional.

We stocked the kitchen with cast iron, sharp knives, and old glass Coke cups—because some drinks just taste better with a little nostalgia.

We stacked the porch with Adirondack chairs above the creek and lined the deck with firewood for long evenings under stars that still look like they did a hundred years ago.

We wanted a place where families could make real memories, where kids could run barefoot, and where the sound of the creek could be the only background noise you needed.

The World Is Becoming More Wired

Every year, the world gets noisier. Faster. More abstract.

We order more and touch less. We scroll more and look less.

But not here.

Out here, the signal fades and something else comes in.

Your kids start stacking rocks.

You finish that book you brought.

You finally sleep through the night.

You remember that wonder didn’t leave you—you just hadn’t made space for it in a while.

As Wendell Berry wrote:

“The world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles… only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous and humbling and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home.”

The same is true for rest, story, place, and family.

Sherpa Camp is our answer.

Not to escape modern life, but to restore what modern life has forgotten: the good kind of tired after a long hike, a fire that holds your gaze for an hour, a bunk bed that holds your child’s best memory.

We didn’t build a brand.

We built a return.

To wonder.

To woods.

To wisdom.

The Invitation

If you’ve ever watched a scout hang a lantern just before dark…

If you remember the smell of wet leaves and matches…

If you want your kids to feel what it means to make a fire, hike a trail, and sleep hard in clean sheets…

Then maybe this cabin was built for you.

We call it Scout Revival.

And we’d be honored to share it with you.