Photograph by Christian Murillo
If this summer you find yourself—as many Atlantans do—with your bottom submerged in the Chattahoochee River and the rest of you wedged into a slowly deflating inner tube, you will likely float past Diving Rock at some point on your journey. The granite pier juts out like a defiant chin about 25 feet over the water; it’s easily accessible from the river, making it a popular destination for floaters engaged in the summer tradition of shooting the Hooch.
Leaping from Diving Rock has been something of a rite of passage for generations of Georgians, including Jimmy Carter, who jumped while serving as governor in 1972.
Mother Nature may have obliged in building an organic diving board, but the reality is that, being a natural feature, Diving Rock was not designed with safety in mind. Of the 28 people who have died on the river since 2012, 16 died while near the rock, nearly all of them young men.
“It’s not from jumping off the rock,” says Ann Honious, superintendent of the Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area. “The deaths we’ve had there are all from people swimming to or from the diving rock.” The water, which rushes into the Chattahoochee from the bottom of Lake Lanier, is deceptively deep and cold, she explains, and releases from the nearby Buford Dam, in addition to natural currents, can cause rapid changes in water levels. Weak swimmers can panic and drown, but hypothermia is also a serious risk, and in at least two cases, the people who drowned were strong swimmers who died trying to save others. A swimmer in trouble can also put friends and family who try to rescue them at risk, Honious says.
The park service doesn’t ban people from Diving Rock. “There’s always some risk visiting a national park,” says Honious. “It’s just like those people that encounter a buffalo at Yellowstone.” Instead, they’ve focused on safety. When it comes to water, life jackets are—not to put too fine a point on it—a lifesaver: One study of recreational boating accidents found that life jackets reduced fatalities by 80 percent. Under state law, children under 13 must wear a life jacket on Georgia’s waterways, while older recreationists must have one with them. National Park Service law enforcement rangers patrol the 48 miles of park and issue tickets to the noncompliant, whether they are floating in state-of-the-art fiberglass kayaks or old-school literal inner tubes. The rangers can’t be everywhere, so the fines—generally about $180—are steep enough to foster an ambient respect for the law. The National Park Service has a life jacket loaner station at the Diving Rock beach, sponsored by the Chattahoochee National Park Conservancy.
Increased focus on safety may be working: No one died near Diving Rock in 2023, and the National Park Service hopes this summer will be similarly uneventful. In addition to wearing life jackets, Honious encourages all Hooch shooters to follow safety tips: Don’t float alone, don’t bring glass, wear sunscreen, stay hydrated, and make sure everyone knows the exit point off the water.
Has Honious herself jumped from Diving Rock? No. “It’s not something I feel comfortable doing,” she says. She prefers kayaking, and plans to take up fishing this year—another Chattahoochee pastime beloved by Governor Jimmy Carter.
This article appears in our August 2024 issue.
