Huffman Ford

by Dale Grubaugh

That first time is always the scariest and I remember it mighty well. Here I am, standin’ on top of a boulder with a rope clenched tightly in my hand.

At best, I'm only about 12 feet above the river (but from here it looks more like a 100). There’s a fair amount of anxiousness runnin’ through my mind. But, I’m gonna do this...

I lean backward, hangin’ onto that rope — then take a big jump forward. When I get to the top of the outward swing, I let go of the rope and drop feet-first into the cool, deep water of the Bourbeuse River.

It wasn't real graceful and I probably screamed like a little girl, but I did it!

And with that, I had just completed my induction into the Huffman Ford swimmin’ hole crowd.

For as long as I can remember, folks — young folks in particular — have been comin’ to Huffman Ford to ward off the heat of summer (or just have a relaxin’ time on the river).

When folks said they was a goin’ to the swimmin' hole ya just naturally knew they was headed fer Huffman Ford.

Now there are a lot of fords on the Bourbeuse River: Iron Ford, Glossier Ford, Murphy’s Ford.

But, Huffman Ford is the only one that is actually a shor’nuf ford.

There ain’t no bridge.

To get from one side of the river to the other ya have to drive through the river.

Fortunately the river bottom is solid enough at this point to support the weight of a vehicle.

Folks who live around there ford the river all the time and think nothin’ of it. Bowen Cemetary sets on the hill across the river and more than one funeral procession has forded the river to get to their destination. The only time the river can’t be forded is, of course, when it’s flooded!

Other than that, it’s a right safe place to cross.

Folks come from all around to swim and camp in the summertime. They use that easy river access for giggin’ in the winter time. And there has been many a “party” held there over the years.

As Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church sets on top the hill above the ford, many a new believer has followed their Lord in baptism at Huffman Ford.

It’s the church’s own personal baptistry.

Huffman Ford is one of those rare places that has staved off the improvin’ hand of modern man.

Always a place of recreation, there have been those who have tried to make a park out of it with picnic tables and such. But even those have been met with resistance: the tables keep disappearin’.

The ford looks just the same as it did the first time I swung off the rock as a kid. And folks are still swingin’ into the river just like their great-grandparents did.

I’m right glad some things never change.

’Till next time,

Elias Tucker

January 23, 2011