John 'The River Guy'

You’re technically not suppose to swim in Birmingham, Alabama’s reservoir- Lake Purdy. Yet, I’ve always felt like if motor boat oil, plastic and food waste can take a dip, so can I. My argument being, I leave a lot less toxins in the water than all of those things. What started as a bit of an act of rebellion after getting run out of Oak Mountain State Park for swimming outside designated areas; became one of the most emotionally and spiritually satisfying journeys of my swim career. Both competitively and recreationally.

In 2002, I just could not stay in the 120 yard lane at the Oak Mt. State Park recreation lake too many more times. After swimming outside of it a couple of times park rangers finally attempted to banish me from the park. About that time, I had recalled my late uncle declaring a heavenly stretch of Jefferson County, AL. called Lake Purdy. A roughly three mile long reservoir off Highway 180 nestled between suburban Birmingham and Leeds. There, I knew I could swim in a place unmolested by any intrusion, legal or other wise. And thus began a requiem for my soul for over a decade. A place I’d swim on October mornings alone or with new acolytes named Andrew. Or a place I’d teach basic swim strokes for a friend named Greg who was considering the Navy at the time. It didn’t matter much who ever was or was not with me. The wonderment of water snakes, cranes, hawks and eagles kept me company when humans could not come. Then there was the time in October of 2010 where I skinny dipped alone in the dark on a Saturday night at the HWY 119 section, adjacent to the Grants Mill Road bridge; after a week full of tension and anxiety. The radiant glow of a harvest moon there to whisper its comfort.

I swam the full length of it in summer 2010 and foolishly walked the whole way back to the Grant’s Mill Road bridge through the woods barefoot. Being a little over a three mile route, I felt like then it was an accomplishment. And at that time, all I ever wanted to prove about the place. Moving back home to Gadsden, AL. I left its caress in fall 2013, only to revisit sparingly. I told myself I was satisfied with leaving it behind as a memory. As the duty of meticulous training became reality for my upcoming Mobile Bay crossing, I realized it was the only logical place safe from boating traffic that could create the distance I needed to simulate sections of Mobile Bay So, I swam what I dubbed ‘going around the tub’ for the first time this summer, June 2024. That being, starting out just north of the Grant’s Mill Road bridge and going right and staying right along the Grant’s Mill Road side all the way to where the lake becomes an outflowing creek flowing toward HWY 280. Resting on a beach full of reeds and shrieking cranes for five minutes then embarking back toward my origin northeast of the bridge on the left/HWY 119 side of the lake. Whether it was my late June swim or my late July swim, that end point of the lake opposite of my entry point seemed most mystical. Edging an island on the southwest end of the lake I could see the end of it. Yet, it is one of those places where the shore seems to recede away from you once you attempt to get closer. I can’t recall many places behaving in that way. No doubt it was an optical illusion brought on by fatique and impatience, yet the paradigm really presented itself with more gravitas than other destinations, I’ve tried to reach all these years. It’s a fact of the matter, it’s a place of unspoiled beauty. A place that both times I swam to it, pontoon boats left my path as if to tell me to use caution. That there was something about ‘water’s end’ that had other wordly significance. It was just so different from the northeast section of the lake by the bridge. Sure, you’d get aggrevated at that end of the lake as well, as it’s shores also did not seem to come to you the swimmer as fast as you’d like. Yet, it just seemed like it did not try to push you away like the southwest corner of the lake did.

Then there was swimming past the Lake Purdy boat launch. A place that seemed to magnetize a swimmer, making them feel like they could never pass that section of the lake. Again, it was another trick of the mind as it is the place where you’d get harassed by onlookers and southern, conservative ‘surveillance culture’ for not using the lake to fish in only. And you really wanted to psychologically move past it as quick as you could. Of course that very thing happened to me during my July swim. With not much happening other than me shouting back to the harasser on the dock by telling him I was headed toward the Grant’s Mill bridge and I’d be out of the area in minutes. Even after swimming past it back into tranquility, it just felt like a section of my route that tried to hold me in place and led to me imagining a dam breaking back at the southwest section, I’d just left, sucking the whole lake into metro Birmigham. At least that’s the story I told myself to break the boredom of the final excruciating leg.

Saturday, I just knew it was the ‘fall’ of the season of my aquatic journey at Lake Purdy. I knew, I’ll never have to swim the distance it provides me again after my Mobile Bay endeavor. I’ll never really need it any more. Ironically, Oak Mt. State Park has now offered all lakes for swimmers and every inch of them. All those memories came rushing back. All those ghosts in the moonlight who’d greet me when I had to get away. All those lessons learned on all of those distance swims with Andrew, with soaring hawks and eagles on crisp fall mornings. It will always be my top two or so memories in regards to open water distance swimming. Or really just swimming in general. It is my hope the city of Birmingham allows swimmers to train there intentionally. It is a hell of a place to train. It is a heaven of a place to renew your soul.

-John