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I'd read about the Honey Hollow swimming hole on a naturally dammed section of Cunningham Creek in the Baltimore Sun's travel section, and I'd never heard of it before, even though it was just up the road from Thurmont, where I lived. I'd heard of the Honey Hollow Reservoir, of course, because it provided water to Thurmont. It was up in a fold of the Catoctin Mountains, and the paper said it was a beautiful mile and a half hike up beyond the reservoir to a naturally fed, rock-bottom swimming hole that harkened back to our grandfather's era. I decided right there and then I'd check that swimming hole out. I did so first in July, and although the hike lived up to its hype, the swimming hole was crowded with families with young children and a group of smart-alecky high schoolers, and so I put swimming there on a backburner.

Today I'd gotten my chance, though. After a mid-September cold snap the previous week warning us of the approach of autumn, this week was in the 80s. The apple picking had been wrapped up at Collins's farm, so I'd settled on today to make another go at the swimming hole. It was mid week and the families would be busy doing something else and all of the kids would be back in school anyway.

As I pulled up to the parking area above the reservoir dam and at the foot of the fire trail leading up into the fold in the mountains, I had to pull in close to a humongous black Dodge Ram, because a large tree had fallen into the parking area and had left little room for parking. ...

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