Swim at Your On(sic) Risk. That sign at the Ratliff Hole beach brought chuckles from paddlers and other wiseguys for years.
Maybe someone should bring it back.
No one drowned in that hole of water while that infamous sign was there. According to old timers around here, no one had ever drowned in that hole of water. Not by accident.
But in the last few years, a handful of people have not come up after jumping into the Russell Fork's inviting waters. For me, it's been a truly sad and bewildering development.
I've long been intimate with the river that flows through Elkhorn City. While I didn't learn to swim in the Russell, I did advance from proficient dog paddling water treader to cross-current deep dive cliff jumping water dog on its banks.
I became a whitewater adventurer long before I knew what a kayak was. We dragged our patched coal truck innertubes up the shoals above Peto's Rock and rode the current, bouncing off rocks and spinning in the sun. We learned to respect the sudden drops and undercut rocks in the river bed.
When I returned to Elkhorn in my 30s, I was introduced to kayaking and the undeniable dangers of the Russell Fork. Kayaking gave me new respect for a stream that can be beautiful a tempting green trickle one moment and an angry brown torrent the next.
My first release season brought the first whitewater death on the Russell Fork. In the 25 years since, I've lost good friends to the same fate. It's part of the bargain whitewater lovers make. We'll take the danger for the unique experience of navigating cataracts and waterfalls no person could swim. It is a true, and risky, blessing.
But no one looking for a stream to cool off in is making that bargain. The casual person looking for a hole of water to cool off in isn't thinking about it. The last thing tourists who visit the Breaks are thinking about is the inherent dangers of a free running stream.
Unfortunately, the unspeakable visited us once again Memorial Day weekend. Once again an unsuspecting visitor jumped into the river only to be dragged out.
None of those first responders called from their own holiday to help find the young man wanted to be there. I know what they were feeling. It's life affirming to be part of a rescue. It's a soul crushing responsibility to be part of a recovery.
Some have questioned if anything can be done. There are signs, correctly spelled, that warn of the dangers of the river in no uncertain terms. Still, people with little or no water survival skills plunder into the water as if it's a kiddie pool.
Our friends at RFG Society, the fine little coffee shop in town, have begun posting water levels both inside and on Facebook. That can't hurt. Several have suggested the Park do more, such as post flags when the water level is too high for swimming like at beaches.
But, honestly, that isn't an answer. A free flowing river can rise or drop with a well placed downpour. And one never really knows when the Corp of Engineers will open the gates at Flanagan on the Pound tributary. There really isn't much, short of restricting access, the park itself could do.
And that certainly isn't the answer.