The classic country swimming hole is a loosely guarded secret with timeless cooling appeal.
By Roger Klein // Photo by Mia Klein
If, while driving the dusty back roads around farming country this summer, you come across bicycling teenagers with towels around their necks, there is a good chance they are headed to a local swimming hole.
A swimming hole, by definition, is a place in a freshwater spring, river, stream, creek or pond that is deep enough and large enough to swim in. In the United Kingdom, this form of aquatics has recently taken on a new life, rebranded as “wild swimming.”
Swimming holes are kind of like fishing holes—no one is going to tell you where they are! So don’t expect me to list my favourites here. I will, however, give you some pointers.
First, let me tell you about my childhood swimming hole—although you aren’t allowed to swim there anymore. The Sydenham River drops 18 metres over the Niagara Escarpment at Inglis Falls, which marks the beginning of the valley containing the City of Owen Sound. There have been water-powered mills at Inglis Falls since 1843. To create the head of water required for the mills to operate, a dam was built (and later rebuilt).
It was here, in the mill pond behind the concrete dam, that I and other local kids would cool off during the hot summer days of the late 1960s. I lived about two kilometres away and would hike across farm fields and through the bush to meet up with my friends from the two-room school we all attended at Rockford. We dove from the rim of the concrete dam or we would stand under the water flowing over the top of the dam on the other side, before it thundered over the Escarpment.
This is how we whiled away the heat of summer. Occasionally, parents would join in. During one of these family outings, I stepped on a broken glass beer bottle (likely tossed into the swimming hole by late-night partying teens). This was before water shoes or sandals were commonly worn, and my deep cut brought the family outing to an end. This required a trip to hospital for stitches. I still have that scar on my right foot to remind me of my childhood swimming hole.
Not only was the Inglis Falls swimming hole a summer favourite, but my great aunt Beckie (born in 1892) spoke fondly of winter skating parties there. She described couples gliding on skates around a huge bonfire built on the ice of the mill pond.
The fun all came to an end when the Grey Sauble Conservation Authority posted “No Swimming” signs and we lost the local swimming hole.
I took this black and white photograph of another swimming hole back in July of 1988. There was a swimmer diving into the Flesherton Community Pond. Looking for a different view, I crouched right under the diving board to give me a wide-angle silhouette of the diving board and swimmer. You can still beat the summer heat at this swimming hole, now enhanced with a beach created with trucked-in sand.
As for swimming hole location pointers, I suggest looking under the bridges crossing our local streams and rivers. But the best swimming hole locator is a cycling teen with a towel around their neck.
