21/12/2025
There are some places that don’t just hold water – they hold whole childhoods… Deep Creek was that place. ❤️
Hot summer days when the sun had that bright, harmless feeling, and the whole community seemed to drift out there like it was the most natural thing in the world. ☀️
Towels around necks. Bare feet on warm dirt. Bikes rattling along the road from Maryborough to Carisbrook, packed like a convoy of kids who didn’t need a plan, only a destination. 🚲
People talk about that sand like it was a little beach – soft, pale, and perfect for little ones to paddle at the edge while the bigger kids built up the courage for the main event. ⛱️
That little concrete bridge and its legendary “jumping spot” – the place where you’d watch the brave ones launch themselves off first, then eventually talk yourself into it, pretending you weren’t terrified! 🙀
And if you weren’t careful, you’d pay the toll – a stubbed toe, a scraped knee, a bit of skin left behind on the play wheel or the slide. The creek took its tax, but it was worth it! 😄
There was always a deep hole somewhere – under the bridge, down at Harry’s Hole, near the possum tree, the willow trees, the rail bridge, the spots you only found if you knew where to look. 💦
People swung on ropes, floated on tubes, dared each other into backflips, and came up spluttering and laughing like it was the best feeling in the world. 🏊🏻♂️
Some days, the current ran strong when water was released, clean and moving, and it felt like the creek was properly alive. 💦
And it wasn’t just kids, either. Families would make an afternoon of it. Picnic baskets. Tins of biscuits. Polystyrene eskys sloshing around with red cordial. 👨👩👧👦
Fish and chips on the grass. Mums who’d groan at the nagging at first, then suddenly you’d see them packing the food and ringing around, telling friends to meet down there. 🍟
They were easier times – peaceful times – when a “social swim” wasn’t a fancy idea, it was just… what you did. 🧺
On the way home, there’d be the little rituals, too. Calling in for an ice cream for the ride back. Scraping together a few coins for a cold drink. 🍦
Sunburnt shoulders, wet hair, sandy feet, and that satisfied tiredness you only get from a day spent outside with your mates, no screens, no noise, no rush – just water and laughter and the feeling that summer could last forever. 😊
Deep Creek was the Maryborough Riviera – and anyone who was there knows exactly what that means. A lot of people look at it now and feel that sting – the reeds, the overgrowth, the sense that something beautiful got left behind. 😥
But the memories haven’t gone anywhere. They’re still sitting right there in the stories – the bridge jumps, the deep hole, the long rides, the cordial, the picnic blankets, and the way everyone somehow just got along. 🌿
If you were lucky enough to experience those days, you know what we really lost wasn’t just a swimming hole. It was a whole little slice of community life – simple, innocent, and bloody good. 🥰
