Monroe — Lake Monroe is an old quarry filled with the cleanest swimming water any community could want. But swimming here is forbidden.
On June 23, around midday, police escorted about 75 young people from their favorite swimming spot. The trespassers were hanging out on a bare slab by the water, some of the men jumping from nearby trees, the ladies resting on foam noodles in the clear water.
No harm done, yet someone snitched on the fun, though it was a high of 95 that day.
These swimmers come every summer—and every day when it’s hot. If they lay low and come in small crowds, they get away with it. You can usually find the trespassers parked at the AutoZone and McDonald’s on the north side of the lake. The swimmers will march unabashedly off the asphalt in their bathing suits, through tall grass and brush, until they reach a clearing to settle down with drinks, the sun, and the deep blue water.
Every year, people around the neighborhood complain about the invaders––the people who go down and party and the kids who do back flips off the metal I-beams on the south side of the lake.
Yet every few years, someone dies here. When the police are pulling corpses out of the water, you could understand the concern.
After digging into the history of the quarry, I found myself losing my desire to swim in this “lake.” The water is so clear and fresh, and the fish are abundant, but this 100-foot deep swimming pool also acts as a tomb.
In 2015, three young Detroiters went swimming in the lake, and one drowned from fatigue. In 2018, authorities pulled a GMC Envoy from the bottom of the lake as well as a Chevy Impala containing a dead body.
One Monroe resident recalled a father of three drowning himself there in the late 1990s. These are just a few of the incidents. I wouldn’t want to dive down and brush my hand against a rubbery cold limb.
But some people don’t worry like I do. Some think this whole dilemma could be solved by turning Lake Monroe into a public swimming area. Calling something a “lake” does indicate a public invitation, right? Why not make it safe and accessible? That way, police could crack down on the drunks, and the kids could have a safe place to swim.
But such people misunderstand.
About 40 minutes south of Monroe is Sylvania, Ohio, where the city turned an old quarry into a public swimming area. Since there is such a popular demand to swim in Lake Monroe, one wonders why no one followed Sylvania’s example.
I went to the lake to investigate. The water was astounding. But standing at the edge of any part of the lake—whether on the eastern side with The Quarry restaurant, where there are no cliffs and no trees, or on the rest of the lake with cliffs and slabs—every section had a steep drop off about 30 feet. This makes for great diving water, but couldn’t serve as a beachhead. Developing this watery abyss would be a huge legal and excavational undertaking.
One Monroe County resident remembered descending into the quarry when he was a young boy. His grandpa would take him into the then France Monroe Quarry and drive along the ledge that spiraled down into the earth. He said it reminded him of Jurassic Park because of how deep it was.
“Even as a little kid, I remember thinking there was little between the outside of my grandpa’s car door and the edge of the ledge with no guard rails,” he said.
Years later, in 1996, this same resident went to the abandoned quarry with his friends, and they looked out at the roof of the guard shack. Ten feet of water was covering it. In 2001, the old quarry began to look closer to what it is today. About 35 feet of water filled the bowl. Soon after, this resident, his brother, and two friends took a jacuzzi and floated out into the middle of the lake. Unfortunately, they didn’t bring any paddles, and it took them four hours to get back to land.
At some point in its history, the France Monroe quarry became known as Lake Monroe. What an advertisement.
Lake Monroe is aptly named in one sense, however, because it was no longer a quarry after all of its dolomite had been mined. Because the miners dug 100 feet, they hit an aquifer that serves as an inlet and outlet for the freshwater from Lake Erie. This is why everyone comes to swim. The water is crystal.
Getting to the lake is no problem at all. In some of the places I walked to the water’s edge and saw trash strewn about. Walking paths in the tall grass were evident. I found no problem getting to the edge of the lake. Apparently no one else did either.
“No Trespassing” signs littered the concrete barriers placed in front of some of the trodden grass paths that led to the water’s edge. Seeing those signs filled me with youthful zeal. I remembered times when I would search for the forbidden places on my university campus with friends or when I would run through random backyards in my neighborhood. Though I refrained, I can’t deny I thought about coming back for a swim.
People swim in Lake Monroe because it’s beautiful, because it’s hot, because it’s deep and mysterious. The adventure of breaking and entering makes it all the more sweet. Diving off that low-hanging tree is more fun when the authorities might be coming through the brush to get you.
Making it legal to swim there might take away the reason 17-year-olds go in the first place. The Lake Erie Beach is right down the road, after all, even if it isn’t the cleanest. Either way, the teens don’t seem to want to go to a beach.
Noah Wing is a contributing writer for Michigan Enjoyer. You can subscribe to his newsletter at noahwing.substack.com.
