I ♥ Swimming Holes

Big Blue Spring, Wacissa River, FL

I love swimming holes. My friend Paul calls them "wollerin' holes" which I've always found endearing because it implies that we're all just a bunch of fat and wild hogs slopping around in the water. Maybe you object to being a little pink piggy but swimming holes do make us feel like a youth again, as if you found what Ponce de Leon and all those other dorks were looking for all along. 

Growing up in Florida, where I was never more than seventy miles from the coast, more summer days were spent at the local freshwater swimming hole than white sandy beaches. A short walk in the woods or canoe paddle downstream would take you massive holes in the ground -- springs or sinks -- filled with cold and clear water directly connected to the aquifer. Here, the water goes from waist high to sixty-feet deep instantaneously and the trees offer diving platforms taller than what you see in the summer Olympics. These cherished memories reel in my mind like a Wes Anderson film: a delightfully childlike state played back in dreamy 35 mm. I am played by Jason Schwartzman, obviously (though I wish I was more the Luke Wilson type, obviously). 

A swimming hole is a deep place in natural water used for, wait for it... swimming. This includes springs, sinkholes, deep eddies in creeks, and wide spots in rivers. For obvious reasons, swimming holes exclude lakes and oceans. If you need this explained to you then you probably have posted something about  "~*LaKeDaYs*~" more than once in your life. Not all swimming holes are created equal, however. Below I offer a hierarchical ranking system of swimming holes. These definitely definitive categories come as a result of exploring swimming holes from the swamplands of Florida to the hills of Appalachia and to the furthest reaches of the Rocky Mountain West. 

Popo Agie Falls outside Lander, Wyoming is a classic example of a top-tier swimming hole. It hits all the spots: cold water? check. Scenic views? Sinks Canyon and the Wind River Range, check-check. It’s out west so the only snake to be wary of is the rattlesnake which has the common decency to warn you before it strikes unlike the cottonmouth and copperheads here in the south. And, unless you’re in Lander during the International Climbers Festival, you don’t have to be too worried about crowds. 

Popo Agie Falls, WY

Things get complicated on the B-team. The swimming hole at the end of the cliff line along Little Clear Creek in Tennessee is beautiful and features a fun jump but I’ve seen way too many snakes and know of way too many people (crowds!) who have been bit there. Likewise, way down in Big Soddy Gorge is an immaculate swimming hole. There’s no meaningful jump but you’re almost guaranteed to have the place to yourself. And the water is so clear, you can see any snakes before they get too close. Both are amazing and both are mid-tier. 

 Big Soddy Gorge, TN

 

It's hard to say there are any "bad" swimming holes but there are some we would have to qualify as bottom-tier. First, no swimming hole can be truly good if it has warm or tepid water. Yuck. Likewise with crowds. Crowds mean people, people mean noise, and likely trash. Blue Hole in North Chickamauga Creek outside Chattanooga is a delightful wollerin' hole marred by mobs of teenagers with bluetooth speakers, left-behind empty energy drink cans, and soiled baby diapers. Also, yuck. It's best to avoid a swimming hole like this on  weekends or altogether. 

Little Clear Creek, TN

A word of nuance: the three-tier system assigns objective value to a swimming hole while many criteria are subjective and liable to vary or change. Ipso facto, a swimming hole can be a top-tier on Tuesday (no snakes seen, no crowds) and mid-tier on Saturday (a snake seen or a crowd gathered). Figuring out which swimming holes are what category is an excellent way to spend your summer. You won't regret it. 

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