I was fortunate growing up – my folks were among the first to install a swimming pool. Such fun! All of the teenagers in town were invited, and sometimes there were twenty of us in the water. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, our pool was never empty. We swam every day, and sometimes all day, and most nights with evening and midnight dips; there were also pool parties, and since we were young, these, too, could last all night. Crystal clear, refreshing water steps from our house, however, never prevented any of us, including myself, from frequenting some of our “swimming holes”.

Historically, the most memorable place to swim was Bigelow Pond, popular with local children and the “summer people” who vacationed in what was once a resort community along our village, where trails led to the large reservoir in the valley. Postcards reveal relaxing scenes of fisherman and row boats, but the neighborhood children remember it differently.

Jane Marrotte, who lived her entire life across the street, relayed that “everyone came swimming” in the summer, from morning till evening, and picnicked on the shore. “There was a sand bar out a ways and the big kids taught you how to swim by taking you out and leaving you and making us swim back. We learned to doggie-paddle that way. We weren’t in danger though; they were right there.”

“All the children swam at Bigelow Pond in the summer, but I never saw any of our teachers swim there,” Margaret Easton, who, like Jane, was one of the neighbors of Bigelow Pond, wrote. “But I remember Miss Hughes’ mother would jump in the water, lay on her back, and go all the way around the pond. But she looked like she never moved! Never saw her feet or arms move, but she went all the way around.”

“At one time the pond was owned privately, most of the water area by one person and the banks by others,” Alison Davis wrote in Hampton Remembers.  “In the heat of a neighbor argument one person, just for spite, sold a right-of-way to the State, thus opening up the pond to the public. Before this, Hampton people had been allowed to swim and fish there but now fishermen and boaters came from all over with their beer cans and litter and the one who had sold the land regretted his action.”

Though many falsely blamed the Hurricane of ‘38 for the destruction of the dam, the State was partially responsible for the pond’s eventual demise a few years later. John Holt, First Selectman at the time, recounted: “We woke up early one morning, Dot and I, and were told that the dam had gone out. Of course Hampton wanted to have its pond back and George Ramsey wanted very much to put it back. But the State owned that slit of land wide enough for a cart to go in from the road to the pond and had up a sign “for public use” and Ramsey didn’t want people from all over the state to go in there and mess it up for the people of Hampton. So he told the State ‘If you will take down your sign, I will replace the dam’.  He had gotten quotations — he told me the quotation was $10,000 so it wasn’t a cheap little thing. The State, however, refused to take down the sign and so George said, ‘Under those circumstances I will not restore the dam’, and it never has been restored.”

Though the most popular place for swimming was no longer, there were other spots for the people of Hampton. One of them was the Little River.

“We were very fortunate to own land near Little River, right over the town line in Scotland. My Dad and Uncle Francis and others built a small cabin down there. It was probably a mile down a dirt road from Route 97. The cabin had no electricity or running water. We would go camping down there during the summer. And would have the time of our lives!” Becky Burelle Gagne wrote.  “Little River was just below the cabin. We’d go swimming every day in the river. The water was so refreshing! We’d also use the river to get washed up.”

The Burelles weren’t the only family to swim and wash in the Little River. “Nearly every night in the summer after we finished eating supper, we went down to a secluded spot on our property where there was a deeper spot on the Little River and swam and took our ‘baths’,” Debbie Fuller relayed, adding, “I love that clear, dark, tannin stained water.”

Hilda Moseley recalled swimming in the pooled spot on Hemlock Glen “by the bridge and mill at Silliman’s pond. The mill was there then and had a waterwheel. A great area for youngsters and budding adventures.”

William Pike remembered swimming in the Little River at Tammy and Charlie Grace’s place; and I used to swim in one of the portions that traverses the Fox’s property, past the meadow on Windham Road.

In an interview at the library, Pat Donahue shared that as a child, her responsibility to bring the cows in for milking from a pasture near the Little River provided an excuse to stop for a swim in the water there. Later her children learned to swim in the Little River before they were even in school. Eventually Jack excavated a pond in their yard, and the neighborhood children would spend afternoons there while their mothers sat and socialized. Pat called this her “favorite memory of Hampton – time at the pond.”

The Donahue’s pond is still in use, as is another in the neighborhood, the Wolmer’s. “My dad, Vic Wolmer, had a pond made when I was about three on South Bigelow Road. We learned to swim at the ‘beach’ and then could jump off the dock. There was a rope swing for a while to swing off of,” Diane Wolmer Norris recalled. “Kids in Howard Valley came over to swim in the clear water. There was also the slalom course for the kayaks and canoes. Sometimes we would swim race the course instead!”

“My Dad and Bill, maybe John Trowbridge also, dug our pond. It had a deep-end dock with a diving board and a shallow-end dock for us littles. It had a floating raft in the center. We had to tread water for 15 minutes before we were allowed out to the floating dock. Later on a telephone pole was used to create a swing!” Kristin Hoffman Hembree remembered the pond at Diane Becker’s. “I sometimes swam my horse in that pond and definitely caught some tadpoles and frogs.”

Others remembered swimming at Henri’s, Burdicks, Ostby’s, Tumel’s and Vadnais’s, where the pristine pond formerly used by the nudist colony later became a perfect place for teenagers with its large rock for diving and sandy beach for sunning.   I’m the only one, though, who makes claim to swimming at Pine Acres Pond, circa 1965, only once, and today I look at that deep, black water by the bridge, where people reportedly have witnessed terrifying snakes, and I, myself, am horrified.

One of the loveliest in town is Halbach’s pond. Ruth Halbach writes: The swimming pond we called it. The neighborhood swimming pond. North Brook Road, moms bringing their kids up on a hot summer day, the kids swimming, moms enjoying adult conversation. And nothing like a cool swim to wash the hay seed off after a day in the hot sun pulling in bales. Jumping off the raft in the middle of the pond or being pushed off, all of us on one side as a barrel from under the other side floats out and away. Put it back and do it again. Neighborhood, Fourth of July celebrations, weekends fishing and swimming with families after a week’s work. All just memories now, but the best, finding the coldest spring, on the hottest day and thinking, this is refreshing, this is the way summer should be.

Another beloved pond – Millers on Old Kings Highway, where most of us who were raised here learned to swim. Nancy Miller provided swimming lessons at this pastoral spot in the 1960’s. Last year, the Gazette’s coverage of that barn, currently owned by the Newcombes, included the pond and the recollections of those who learned to swim there, and Nancy, who remembers teaching us.  “I don’t know how many kids learned to swim and hopefully develop a lifelong love for water and swimming because of those fun summer classes. In those days, every little girl wore a bathing cap and of course came to lessons with it on and wearing a swim suit. I remember walking down Main Street in Willimantic and cute little girls with long hair and dresses on would stop me and say “hello”! It was always a puzzle to figure out who it was without a bathing cap!” Nancy wrote.

There were also wonderful places to swim in neighboring towns, like Chaplin.

“We went to England’s Bridge in Chaplin most of the time. My grandparents lived in Chaplin center so we were out that way a lot. The brave kids would jump off the structure in the middle of the bridge. I was not that brave,” Alma Pearl Graham wrote. “We also would go to Halls Pond occasionally.”

Diana’s Pool was another legendary spot. “I used to swim at Diana’s Pool often with friends and family. It was a terrific natural waterhole to have,” Kathy Thompson recalled. Unfortunately, like Bigelow, people from elsewhere, namely college students, started drinking there, soiling the area with broken glass. “However, in its glory it was such a beautiful place to swim as so many remember!”

Some shared memories of Mashamoquit, where there was also hiking, picnicking and camping, and water skiing at Crystal Pond where the Gauthiers had a cottage. And many remembered Alexander’s Lake. “A rare treat,” Piper Linkkila wrote.

“Oh YES…Alexander’s Lake was a favorite place to go for sure,” Kathy recollected. “The water was crystal clear and they had that great water wheel and a place to buy food or cook out. Had to get there early to get those red benches on the beach!”

“Alexander’s also had a huge slide way out in the water and lots of docks for the smaller kids,” Judy Noel relayed. “It is still as clear as it was then.”

Carol Dauphin shared, “Every Sunday my family would rent a couple of picnic tables and my mom’s whole family from Rhode Island would come down and have a blast…”

“…The way summer should be.”

Dayna McDermott