Remembering Brannan's Bluff

A Favorite Swimming Hole of My Youth

Before I could drive myself, Aunt Eva Lea would take us to the "big creek" at at Brannan's Bluff on Baron Fork Creek near Proctor, OK. After chores were done, my cousins (Glenda & Rhonda) and my sisters (Gail & Sandra) and I would jump into the back of Uncle Jewel's 1969 red Chevy pick-up truck. We'd climb up two or three rungs on the wooden stock rack and head to the water. The hot summer wind would rush through our hair as we sped down the road. We'd wave to all we met, happy to be on our way.

After we turned off the highway onto the dusty lane, we'd climb down and crowd around the narrow gate. Almost before the wheels stopped, we'd hop out and race bare-foot across the rocks to see who would be first in the water. We'd drop towels on the way and shout to those behind to hurry. Once in the water, we'd dive straight into the crystal clear cold water, swim across to the bluff and climb the gray flint wall to the natural cut ledges. The bluff had varying heights so you could choose where to stop depending on how brave you felt at the time. Sandra was too little and didn't swim well enough to make it to the bluff so she stayed close to shore with friends -- new or old -- that she found. Gail and Glenda would usually stop on the lower levels; sometimes still knee deep in the water, to practice diving. Rhonda and I were tomboys and would climb as high as we could to jump off.

I would stand on the narrow ledge and look down at the scene below. Groups of swimmers would laugh and splash each other. Some floated on inner tubes and rafts. On the gravel bar to one side, teenage girls would lie on towels talking and sun bathing. Rock and roll from transistor radios echoed off the rock wall. The smell of Coppertone drifted in the still air. Blue sky stretched above. Not a cloud in sight -- birds swooping and darting in joy. Dear Aunt Eva Lea would be in her folding lawn chair, a towel over her head to protect her from the sun, at the edge of the water in what little shade could be found. The water sparkled and reflected the sun except int he shadow of the bluff. There, where the water was deep, fish swam lazily or did under a ledge. A glorious place to be when you are a young teen: before worrying about looks, boys and popularity yet and after being an over protected kid. That just right age.

Rhonda would jump. Then I would. Or, we'd all four play follow the leader or other games we made up as we went along. We'd climb and jump and swim until breathless and shivering we'd find a sunny spot to rest and warm. Rhonda, shivering with blue tinged lips and fingers, would sit on the ledge just long enough to stop shaking. Denying she was cold, she'd jump in again and we'd all be off once more.

After about two hours, it would be time to go. We'd hear Aunt Eva Lea call us but would delay as long as possible. We'd swim to the shallow side and beg for just one more jump. She must have been about to melt from the heat but was kind and usually gave us a few more minutes. Eventually, we'd all come dragging out, wrap in our towels then climb in the back of the truck for the ride home. Often, since we thought we were starving, we would stop at the Proctor Store for an ice cold Coke and a candy bar.

As soon as we got home, we'd run down to our little creek to wash off the "big creek". We'd play until supper then fall into bed exhausted to sleep the dreamless sleep of the young.

Oh, those were wonderful days!