The Lumber River

When trees love a river, their branches trail in its water like a long caress. Fish tickle their knees and tiny, hoppy things play in their laps. The Lumber River loves them back, reflecting in its dark brown water the tannins that leach from their bark, staining but not polluting the water and casting a mysterious mood even on the brightest days.

From the days when Indigenous people hewed canoes from the trees that arched over the river to now, with red and yellow kayaks zipping across its surface like waterbugs, local residents have found livelihood and life along the river’s banks and in its depths.

Whether they stay for a day or linger longer, visitors have plenty of points along the Lumber River’s 115 miles to fish, boat, and explore its cool shade and sparkling waters.

Neither channeled nor dammed, the Lumber River has escaped commercial pollution, too. “Our river is wild,” says Dencie Lambdin, a longtime resident who chairs Main St. Lumberton, a local business and citizens’ group. “It’s unique as rivers go.”

The Lumber River is one of the five North Carolina rivers in the National Wild and Scenic Rivers system. From its start at Drowning Creek, the river angles across the gentle midsection of North Carolina, through parks and along highways, through Pembroke and Lumberton, and then ambles across the line into South Carolina. It meets up with the Little Pee Dee River, which expands into the Great Pee Dee River and goes to the Atlantic. Along the way, the Lumber River delivers habitats for fish and mammals, fun for boaters and sports enthusiasts, and plenty to see for those who love to watch it all unfold.

Brett Godwin has been part of it for over 30 years. As a kid, he fished the river with his family. Now, as the superintendent of the Lumber River State Park, his official “dream job,” he says, is to help others make their own river memories.

The river is different in each season, says Godwin. In the spring, locals drop lines for sunfish. In the summer, canoeists and kayakers beeline for the deep shade and soft breezes that offer relief from the Carolina heat. And in the fall and winter, camping reigns, with night temperatures rarely falling to freezing and the days bright, clear, and snappy. “You’ll have the park to yourself,” says Godwin. The park is closed only on Christmas Eve and Day.

The park’s two boat ramps—at Princess Ann and Chalk Banks—are the official access points. Local outfitters coach visitors through the most pressing decision: where to put in and where to exit. Fish if you like—you’ll need only an active state license, available on demand and online at the North Carolina Wildlife Resource Commission.

But you don’t have to be in the river to be on the river. Bluff trails offer overlooks where visitors can settle in for a good long spell, likely rewarded by sightings of kingfishers, beavers, snakes, turtles, and all varieties of birds. “You feel like you’re on the river even if you don’t have a boat,” says Godwin.

For as long as people have lived along the Lumber River, they have drawn on it. Local historian K. Blake Tyner explains that “Life by the River,” a major exhibit at the Museum of the Southeast American Indian on the campus of UNC-Pembroke, re-creates the days of each of the eight original tribes.

An ancient canoe was unearthed years ago from the river and served as the template for staff and tribal members. “Indian canoes were only 16 inches across and were made to stand in, with a deeper draft,” explains Tyner, “like people do now with paddleboarding. You’d be poling through the waters.” In summer 2024, a replica canoe, hand-scraped from a whole yellow pine log, will occupy the museum’s floor – ready for little visitors to clamber into and play, poling and paddling. The exhibit also features music recorded by contemporary artists from each of the eight tribes, with an emphasis on their lives on the river.

With colonists came a different perspective on the river’s utility: scaling production and making the most of the water’s flow to ports south.

Tyner—whose own family arrived in the area around 1740—relates that early White settlers monetized the Lumber River by erecting toll bridges. Whole families established themselves by surveying the land, flanking the river, and controlling what could float on it or travel across it. The Lumber River lived up to its name with flotillas of logs, branded by those who cut them for accurate accounting at the mill, carried to Jamestown, South Carolina, for eventual export.

Villages grew on the river’s banks, and for a short while a century ago, taverns clustered like barnacles. As industry expanded, the river served as a Sunday respite. During the summer, groups would picnic on flat-bottomed boats in the refreshing breezes that swept from the forests.

Then, as now, visitors don’t have to be on the river to enjoy it, especially in downtown Lumberton.

The first installation of a years-long riverwalk project stretches along the gentle bluff, anchored at a Third Street entry point of the Robeson County Farmer’s Market. (To efficiently arrive at the spot, direct your GPS to 111 W. 3rd St., Lumberton. That’s the readily found Adelio’s restaurant.)

This riverbank location—where Indigenous tribes once traded—now hosts the Robeson County Farmers Market, where local farmers gather to bring the best of their fields to Lumberton residents. For further enjoyment of the historic downtown riverwalk, follow the “Happy” sidewalk mural, which depicts the painted waves of the river leading to the Dick Taylor Plaza, where concerts are enjoyed on Thursday evenings during the summer months.

Stroll along the new riverwalk, above the water and waving distance to passing boaters. If you use a wheelchair or push a stroller, you’ll find the riverwalk welcoming, as it’s deliberately designed to accommodate those who need an even keel.

For all its history, the Lumber River remains, says Lambdin, much as it was 300 years ago when Native Americans traversed it in hand-hewn canoes and 150 years ago when it was a main thoroughfare for Carolina crops and logs. The black water tumbles toward the marshes, which eases fresh water into the salt and where the black dissipates into the blue.