”
Monday and Tuesday of this week, I took assorted passels of
children and dogs to Uvas Creek. The water is a little nippy when
you first get in, but delightful thereafter.
“Monday and Tuesday of this week, I took assorted passels of children and dogs to Uvas Creek. The water is a little nippy when you first get in, but delightful thereafter. I recommend old tennis shoes to protect against broken glass. We waded, threw rocks, swam, boogie boarded, netted minnows and tadpoles, and even jumped from the bank into the swimming holes.
“It is not, perhaps, an appropriate outing for the fastidious. The algae clings to your ankles, and its murky, green odor fills your nostrils. We saw a dead fish being cannibalized by small fry. We also saw live fish: multitudes of minnows and a few foot-long keepers.
“We saw wild roses blooming amidst the oak, eucalyptus, and bay laurel lining the bank. Swallows swooped over the water, hummingbirds hovered, and neon-blue dragonflies darted. The children shouted, and the walls we carefully construct between ourselves and nature fell down.”
I wrote the above in June 1998. We have been creek-swimming since, both upstream of Silva’s Crossing, where there was a delightful swimming hole and a tree to jump from for the brave or foolhardy, and downstream, where Uvas Creek runs swiftly over the stony shallows and sluggishly through the algae strewn depths, reaching five feet deep for a few stretches alongside Christmas Hill Park.
We did not go last year, as Uvas Creek dried up before the weather warmed enough to be tolerable. And this year, just as the tadpoles hatched and the creek began to beckon, an enormous “No Swimming” sign was posted at Silva’s Crossing.
“Oh, well,” I thought. “We can wade.” Unfortunately, I soon read in The Dispatch that city ordinance prohibits wading as well as swimming, making it impossible to catch tadpoles or jump into water holes.
The reason, of course, is liability. The city feels that it must prohibit swimming and wading, and post signs to that effect, and have the police slap fines on any kids or parents too slow or respectful to run away. Otherwise, if some fool kid goes and drowns himself, his fool parents will sue the city for negligence, costing taxpayers megabucks.
With signs and fines, the city can plead that they have taken all appropriate precautions. And so they have. They have also destroyed a major joy of childhood.
I would further argue that the signs and fines cause the actual danger of a child drowning to increase. Note that prior to the signs, I accompanied my kids down the creek, both for safety’s sake and for the pleasure of the outing. If I accompanied them now, I would be teaching them to break the law. I cannot do that. The current ordinance lessens the likelihood that kids will be accompanied by parents when they swim in the creek.
What can be done? The danger of drowning is real, though small, outside of flood season. They danger of litigation is equally real.
What do hotels do to protect themselves from litigation? They post signs at the pool: No Lifeguard on Duty. Swim at Your Own Risk. No Diving. Children under 14 must be Accompanied by a Parent.
The City of Gilroy recently adopted a Fireworks Mitigation Strategy that recognizes that fireworks, especially illegal fireworks, but even legal fireworks used carelessly, can cause damage. The city decided, not to prohibit the joy of the glorious Fourth, but to be prepared for additional calls on Independence Day, and to surcharge users to pay for that preparation.
The children of Gilroy are increasingly obese. Why are we telling them to stay out of the creek? Are the only safe activities in the world watching TV and playing Game Boy?
Fireworks are risky. So are creeks, so is life. I hope our city councilmen can take a long fond look at their childhoods and remember the pleasures of tadpoling and splashing and water-fights.
I hope the ordinance can be amended to, not prohibit, but mitigate the inherent risk of joy. The signs can be supplanted by a simple message: No Lifeguard on Duty. Wade at your Own Risk.
