Swimming in Lake Huron

Walking in the warm, humid weather with Mom is nice.  Hardly a breeze.  We walked along the Huron Lake shoreline to the Dock 3 park.  It has a boat ramp and is a possible swimming spot for us.  I've been swimming at the other boat ramp place, east of St. Ignace. I take Mom there so we don't have to tackle the loose rocks while walking into the water.  The problem with that spot is the Sheriff docks his boat at one of the small docks. I've heard him tell young swimmers, "There's no swimming, here."  (He's hasn't told Mom and me to quit swimming, YET!  I have a few answers ready for him)  I know it's his job, but it's annoying to know young people are turned away from swimming in this extreme heat.

I spent my childhood summer days and evenings swimming.  I spent a lot of time down at the old Arnold Line dock.  Another place I loved to swim was by the mooring lines at the state marina.   I liked to sit on them, with my body half-submerged in the cool water.  There were always two or three other swimmers with me in the water, usually my brothers.  We'd dive, jump, swim and even earn some extra money diving after coins the tourists would throw into the water.  We'd show off for them, diving in and going under to retrieve the coins. If there were more than two of us competing for the coins it was quite a challenge and made quite a splash. It always ended we'd have enough money to spend at Pemble's Grocery to get some candy, pop or chips.  I loved Slow Pokes and licorice. They lasted longer.

Sometimes a boat owner from the marina would hire us to search for an item that was lost overboard near their boat. I remember duck diving under water after rings, sunglasses, wallets, and even a six-pack of cold beer that got loose from it's line. The cold water would keep the beer cold so they could retrieve it later.  I also remember my brothers would help get rope out of propellers and wash off the green algae growing on the hull of some of the sailboats.  

Not often, but once in awhile we asked Dad to get us set up with the scuba diving equipment we'd need so we could concentrate our search.  He knew which tanks were filled with air, which regulator wasn't leaking, which mask was the best. There usually was an agreed on price with the boat owners if we got the diving equipment out.  There were always a lot of on-lookers on the edge of the dock as spectators.  The large air-filled bubbles that consistently came to the surface let them know where we were during our search.  The deeper we went the darker it became and wasn't always easy to see us.  We all knew to be extremely careful with our flippers at the bottom.  If we used them near the bottom the muck would start swirling around and make it impossible to see.  Then the job became impossible and we had to wait until it settled again.  I remember my brothers and I would laugh about finding the lost item right away and taking our time coming up from our dive.  We were all geared up and enjoying scuba diving AND the "all eyes on me" experience.  The suspense was nice for the spectators and we got a chance to see if there was anything else interesting down there.

There was excellent spot under the huge dock that the Mackinac Island ferries would tie up to.  I remember jumping in from the dock and crawling under into a cave-like area that had a flat surface of treated pilings. The water was about an inch over the pilings and it was shaded and cool under there. Cindy Sweeney and I would go under there and just lay down in the inch of cool water waiting for the waves.  When the strong waves from the ferries hit we had to hold on tight so as not to get jostled about under there.  It was like a water tree house.  Private, cool and we felt adventurous because of the danger factor. 

Another dangerous, but fun thing we'd do, was to take a rowboat under "Dock 2" as it was called.  There wasn't enough room under the enormous beams to keep your head up.  Only in the spaces between the beams.  We'd sit in the boat, push off from one beam, put our heads down (level with the boat's edge) and fly under the dock.  If the waves from the ferries were coming while we were under there, it was terrifying.  They'd toss the boat and everything in it.  The sound and impact of the boat hitting the beams was something we tried to prevent from happening. (and we didn't want to have to explain any damage to the boat)

Memories of cooling off in Lake Huron are sweet.  I have no doubt the young people here have their own secret places to go without someone telling them, "You can't swim here!"  Maybe being told, "You can't" is the incentive they need to be adventurous.