Uncover the hidden gems: A guide to LA's most unique swimming holes

Nestled in California's majestic forests and canyons lies a siren call for adventure-seekers and nature-lovers alike. Discover LA's hidden swimming holes, offering adventure and peace from the soon to be summer heat.

As temperatures rise and Angelenos start to seek alternatives to crowded beaches, hidden gems like Eaton Canyon Falls and Bridge to Nowhere lure hordes with their Instagram-worthy beauty. It's no wonder why. "It's an oasis that seems almost too good to be true," says Sara Sampson, 37, an avid hiker who commonly explores trails surrounding the inland swimming holes. "You hike for over an hour, sweat pouring in the heat, and suddenly - you come upon these gorgeous pools surrounded by wilderness. Your first instinct is to strip off your boots and dive right in."  

That instinct is precisely why officials emphasize caution over exuberance when visiting inland swimming spots. According to newly released data from California State Parks, waterfall and swimming hole accidents have increased a whopping 45% throughout the state over the past seven years. While the cause is still under investigation, authorities cite overcrowding, inexperience, and visitors letting their guard down as primary suspects. 

Dr. Krista Ferluga, an emergency physician from Good Samaritan Hospital, confirms an uptick in patients admitted for what she calls "nature roulette" injuries. On hot days, we brace ourselves for the incoming wave—dislocated shoulders from daredevil jumps, feet sliced open by unseen rocks, head traumas, near drownings. Vacation fever leads even level-headed people to abandon reason."   

Despite the spellbinding allure, those who frequent these remote destinations admit feeling a lurking unease plunge in tandem with their bodies. Follow along as we explore signs of fear surrounding California's most stunning swimming holes and examine what's being done to temper thrills with caution.  

Breaking the stillness of Malibu Creek State Park last Tuesday were cries for help as a young woman's gathering took a nightmarish turn at the park's popular Rock Pool swimming area. Dana Morris, 24, allegedly dove headfirst into the pool from a 20-foot rocky ledge, a move park officials repeatedly warn against due to precariously shallow waters obscuring jagged rocks below the surface.  

Morris narrowly escaped paralysis but remains in intensive care from massive head trauma and a fractured spine. Authorities recovered three alcohol containers from her backpack, fueling speculation that liquid courage spurred the nearly catastrophic stunt.  

The incident marks the park's 12th major injury this year and third fatality since ominous signs appeared warning "No Diving Allowed". In fact, an astonishing 93% of surveyed park patrons admitted feeling afraid while visiting the alluring yet treacherous site. Still, they come, tempted by the call of hidden waters lined with craggy cliffs offering launching pads for daredevils. Fears be damned when the sultry prize sparkles just out of reach.    

"I felt terrified climbing those rocks in flip flops, no ropes, nothing," remembers Sampson after her own pulse-spiking adventure to Rock Pool years prior. She recalls second-guessing each slippery step only to have fears dissolve once immersed in the payoff of swimming under a desert sun. "In the moment, all I cared about was keeping my head above the water so I wouldn't be pulled under or sucked into holes between boulders," she said. "That water was so cold and dark - I kept wondering if I'd ever make it out."

Like moths to the flame, the life-risking allure of conquest supersedes fear, for many once conquerable heights loom ahead. Thankfully, officials finally took drastic measures following Morris' devastating injury. Starting next month, "cliff diving hot zones" will face barricading and police patrols, with citations costing up to $1,000 for daredevils caught leaping despite countless posted warnings.  

Similar adrenaline-junkie culture plagued Eaton Canyon Falls until recently when authorities were forced to take extreme action after a surge of visitors resulted in three near-drownings last year. The alluring 40-foot waterfall rush tempted countless tourists to perilously wade in its slippery basin despite prominently displayed signs cautioning against entering the water. The canyon's popularity exploded by over 300% after videos went viral on TikTok and Instagram depicting laughing groups playing in the waterfall's basin and climbing behind the cascade. Eaton attracts over 600,000 visitors annually, making overcrowding a leading concern. While the park temporarily closed last season to establish new safety measures, many admit feeling afraid for their well-being due to Eaton's party atmosphere. 

"I took my kids thinking we'd have a nice time but quickly worried for their safety when we could barely move without bumping into rowdy strangers clearly buzzed off sneaked in beers," explained Lauren Wade, a mom of three. One teenager was tossing a football dangerously close to parents holding infants in the water. When I asked him to stop, he just laughed arrogantly."  

After reopening, park officials enforced new permits allowing just 75 visitors per hour, but many worry the policy barely makes a dent during peak season. Still, progress inches forward. Lifeguards now actively survey the swimming hole areas while police presence rose by over 30% to crack down on alcohol in the park. And it seems their efforts slowly quell visitors' nerves. "I'm still anxious someone might slip and become trapped under the powerful currents," admits Wade. "But this year did feel far less chaotic. We could actually hear ourselves think."

Far from the chaos of Los Angeles, a mind-blowing hidden gem beckons off Highway 39 - Bridge to Nowhere towers five stories tall in the San Gabriel Mountains, its span ending mid-air, severed by a massive flood in 1938 that washed away 300 feet separating it from the road. After a grueling 5-mile hike through the wilderness, those daring enough to scale down the canyon walls reach what appears as heaven on earth - a series of crystalline pools perfect for cliff jumping into deep swimming holes.  

Or so they seem.  

A dark undercurrent belies the whimsical name as over a dozen have drowned or disappeared over the years while navigating the achingly cold, rapidly flowing waters that swirl around slippery rocks below massive cliffs on either side. Rescues prove nearly impossible due to rugged terrain limiting access, a nightmare prospect leaving most visitors secretly uneasy despite the payoff beckoning them forward through the remote, phone-less gorge.  

Among the nervous adventurers is Mark Bagley, 44, a Los Angeles investment banker who organizes adrenaline-pumping company retreats. Every summer, he leads packs of young professionals brimming with bravado toward Bridge to Nowhere, well aware of the location's reputation lurking under its picture-perfect facade.  

"That place definitely has an eerie vibe about it," confesses Bagley. "All fun and laughs until someone remembers travelers who lost their lives there, then a hush falls over the group." He says first-timers hesitantly question whether a magical mystery pool is worth their life, while veterans debate bringing life jackets to boost safety. "I think we all have that voice inside warning us to turn back, but that's also the excitement, I suppose. Conquering fears."  

Conservationists like John Muir, Executive Director of Sierra Watch, counter that venturing unprepared into the wilderness costs more lives than it liberates. He advocates better education for novice hikers exploring increasingly popular yet potentially deadly destinations like Bridge to Nowhere.  

Until then, we blindly follow the siren song of stunning swimming holes beckoning from a distance - gambling with fate once lured past the point of no return. Perhaps part of the magic lies in not knowing who emerges on the other side.