I found the best Sierra swimming lake with the strangest name

Study a map of California’s Sierra Nevada, and you’re likely to see some strange names for bodies of water. Pee Wee Lake. Hell Hole Reservoir. Chewing Gum Lake. And yet, a name like Stumpy Meadows Reservoir still stands out. 

The lake’s weird name is partly why Candice Abellon of Livermore and her friends ended up there a decade ago. “It made me laugh,” she told SFGATE. “I was like, ‘Hey guys, do you want to go camping at this place called Stumpy Meadows? ’” 

For my family and I, the trip was more about finding an uncrowded lake to swim in and paddle on. It was a risky move: a three-hour drive to a lake on the western side of the Sierra that none of us had ever heard of. The goofy name didn’t exactly help. 

But as I floated on a paddleboard on its deep blue, exceptionally calm water later that weekend, I was more than happy we took the chance. We shared the shore with less than a dozen people — something I knew was definitely not happening on Lake Tahoe beaches. And we didn’t even have to hike to lose the crowds. 

That said, the drive is nothing to sneeze at. Stumpy is situated at 4,200 feet, about 17 miles east of tiny Georgetown, which is halfway between Auburn and Placerville. Whether you turn off Highway 80 or Highway 50 to get there, the journey winds through dusty yellow cliffs full of turns and drop-offs. On the 50 side, it’s exceptionally steep in spots. On the 80 side, it passes over the Middle Fork of the American River, where people dip into what can be dangerous waters.

When the reservoir comes into view from Wentworth Springs Road, it’s a classic California lake, by which I mean there’s a huge concrete dam taking up one entire side. The U.S. Bureau of Reclamation installed Mark Edson Dam in the early 1960s, naming it in honor of the engineer who labored to acquire the water rights. The road runs on top of it. The lake was rechristened Lake Edson, but locals were stuck on calling it Stumpy Meadows, and the son of the land’s original homesteaders paid to switch it back. (In terms of marketing the future lake, this might have been a very good call.)

While some of Stumpy is lined by trees like any other mountain lake, most of its landscape is a forest of brilliantly green, very short trees punctuated by tall, thin silvery trunks, many burned at the bottom. It’s, well, a bit spooky, a history lesson in how drought and wildfire rock our state. 

In the past decade, the area near Georgetown has been menaced multiple times by big blazes. Coming into town, “Thank You Firefighters” signs are visible on poles along the road. The King Fire in 2014 created the burn area around the lake. Stumpy’s tiny trees are the result of a massive, crowd-sourced tree planting that happened in 2016 in the King Fire’s wake. In 2021, the Caldor Fire veered so close that Stumpy was used as a staging ground. Helicopters fought the fire with water drawn from it. Photos from fall 2022 depict a smoke-shrouded Stumpy during September’s Mosquito Fire.

When we finally arrived at the lake, it was hot, perfect for a sunset swim. Surprisingly, there was just one other group there, a man in the water with his two dogs, and lakeside, his female companion, whom he was trying to get to join them. “El agua está rica, mama,” he said, trying to entice her into the “delicious water.” She didn’t go for it, but I did, jumping in from a small flat rock near the shore.

The water was cold enough to be refreshing, but also more swimmable than many mountain lakes in the state, which are stocked by snowmelt and just too frigid for more than a dip.

Abellon said that the swimming is one of the things that’s kept her coming back to the out-of-the-way lake with the silly name. 

“The times that I’ve gone, it’s always just been a really calm place to go swimming, float, or take your kayak out and paddle to the other side of the lake,” she said. “I’m not a strong swimmer but I love to go to Stumpy.” It helps that there is a 5 mph speed limit for boats, which she’s actually seen enforced. 

Abellon has swum at Stumpy no matter the water level, though in some years, she said she could actually see the stumps under the water that the lake’s name likely refers to. According to the National Park Service, the area was once a meadow for cattle grazing. 

Susie Ochs of San Leandro, who visited Stumpy in 2021, the second driest year on record in California, said her crew set up near the picnic tables at the day use area, where it was shady and cool. She remembers the kids having to navigate rocks to get to the water’s edge, where it dropped off immediately to deep water.

“There wasn’t a nice shallow part for them to play in. If you were in the water, you were in the water right away,” she said. Also notable, though, was a complete lack of crowds, she said.

The next day, we had our #bestdayever swimming at Stumpy, where the water level was what you’d expect for a record rain year — full. The afternoon winds were mild enough that we could use our paddleboard as a sort of raft to take turns swimming from. The few other swimmers bobbed about in cheap floaties near the shore. There was no beach, so two women wound their way around the lake to set up hammocks in the shade. Only a single boat slowly traversed the middle of the lake’s more than 300 acres.

On the other side, near the day use parking, it was the same story — a nearly empty parking lot with just a couple families set up to fish and swim. 

In the morning, I went back down to the shore for a last visit before we left. Once again, I was alone but for the man from our first night, who was just exiting the lake with his dogs.

“The water is delicious,” he told me. That it is. 

Stumpy Meadows Reservoir is 15 miles east of Georgetown, California, on Wentworth Springs Road, about 150 miles from San Francisco. The day use area ($10 fee) features a boat ramp, picnic tables, parking and vault toilets. For campground reservations, go to recreation.gov.