Topaz Mill

Topaz Mill. 

Photo by

  
Photo by Roy Dean Walls  

Written by 
LeRoy Walls 
CEO 

Topaz Mill and spring is privately owned by a terrific couple, Joe and Billie O’Neal. Joe and his brother have built a new millrace that once again runs water from Topaz Spring into the water wheel that powers the gristmill. The mill is in excellent working order and I often enjoy my wife Paula’s cornbread made from corn meal ground at Topaz Mill.

Next door to the mill is an old general store. Both of these are only open to the public on special occasions. Yet, it’s a terrific country drive to just drive by and walk around Topaz General Store, mill and spring. These are all along the North Fork of the White River.

One summer day when Paula and I were dating we went to Topaz. We walked around the crystal clear spring and then went over to the old swimming hole on the river. There was a rope hung from a tree limb near the deepest part - but on this dry day the water was only shoulder high at the deepest spot.

This was my first time to swim at Topaz but I had grown up swimming in small Ozark creeks and rivers so knew how to dive shallow and keep my hands in front of my face. I always preferred to dive from a rope rather than jump so at Topaz I was careful to swing out and then dive back into the deeper water. Paula also loved to swim and had been a lifeguard at Cabool’s pool the previous summer.

Everything was going great. Just when Paula seemed favorably impressed by my rope diving, a young local swimmer showed up and changed all that. He was about half my age and half my size but he sure knew his swimming hole. Instead of diving back toward the bank he made a sick little dive further out in the direction the rope was swinging. After a few of these - my dives started to look rather ho-hum to everyone there, including Paula.

At that point my macho won out over good sense as I grabbed the rope and shoved off with the energy and determination to put the local small fry in his place. Well my form was good and I got great distance but Y I K E S not enough height to get my hands where they could protect my head from the gravel as I landed in three foot deep water. I went from full speed to a dead stop and then just toppled over in a really surprising and painful way.

I don’t know which was bruised more - my head or my pride. If I blame this on love then I’d have to say that love is not only blind - it’s also damn painful.

12/31/1999