The dog days of summer are here, and though the paper has invited me back to write about the adventures that can be had on the area’s trails and waterways, the 90-degree weather of late has had me enjoying the outdoors in a more passive way — lounging by the water, and going in for the occasional dip.

The best swimming holes, I find, are a bit off the beaten path, and offer plenty of shade along the shore. Growing up at a air-conditioner-free house next to a lake in the middle of the state, a quick cool-off was as simple as donning shorts, walking through my backyard and jumping off the ruddy red bridge into the pond.

These days, it requires a little more effort. Unless I want to splash in a fountain or jump into shallow Highland Pond, I’ve got to get in my car or hop on my bike to go take a swim.

About seven years ago, before I lived in town, I used to bike to the Green River quite often. My girlfriend at the time worked at a store near the I-91 rotary. I’d toss my mountain bike in her car and drive to town with her, then set out on two wheels while she worked a short shift. I’d grab a sandwich and a drink and head up Green River Road, just over the Colrain line, park my bike and walk down to the river.

That spot, and a few others farther up the road, remain among my favorites.

But my all-time favorite swimming hole is a thing of the past. The Glacial Potholes in Shelburne Falls have been off-limits for some years now, due to reckless visitors jumping from high cliffs into shallow pools, but I remember when the geological wonder was awash with life.

Some 30 years ago, my father — some of you may remember him as Mike “Chipper” Rainville — asked my younger sister and me if we wanted to see the Potholes.

I’m not sure exactly how old we were, but we were old enough to equate the term with rough roads. Our response? A resounding “No!” Whatever ages we were, we certainly weren’t old enough to drive, so we were dragged there against our wishes.

I’m eternally glad for that. Though we grew up in Westminster, an hour to the east, my father was a Heathun until the 1970s, and knew most of West County’s nooks and crannies. He kept a few acres of woodlot out behind his dad’s house, and we’d camp there a few times each summer. The Potholes became our place to rinse off the weekend’s sweat and wood smoke.

In my teens and 20s, I’d take my friends there when we were on a weekend trip to the camp. One waterfall-fed whirlpool in particular was the perfect place to relax after a long night in the woods. But all good things must come to an end.

These days, stopping by the Potholes is like going to see a dear old friend — in prison. We visit through the bars, reminiscing of days when life was simpler. But, being deemed a danger to society, one of us must be kept under lock and key.

They officially closed to the public in 2002 with a couple “No Trespassing” signs and a lock on the stairs’ gate when I was just shy of 21, but if that stopped anyone from swimming there, we didn’t notice. It was still quite the hot spot for a cool-down.

But that didn’t last. Any easy access to the banks by the Potholes is roped off and posted with threats of prosecution, and I’ve yet to see anyone venture down below the dam.

Sometimes, a few irresponsible people really do ruin it for everyone.

Take, for example, the Greenfield Pumping Station by the Eunice Williams Bridge. It’s seen a spike in popularity this summer, and is often packed as I drive past on my way to swim upriver. However, some of those who have been enjoying the place have been leaving a big mess behind.

That makes me sad, but it also makes me feel the need to mention the Green River Cleanup on Sept. 24, starting at the Green River Swimming and Recreation Area in Greenfield. It’s part of the annual Source to Sea Cleanup Sept. 23 and 24, with several groups cleaning up parts of the Connecticut River watershed. It’s not only a good cause, but a good time, with the Green River group offering up an after-party with lunch and live music.

Maybe I’ll see you there.

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