From the Pipe in the Rock: Cold Springs and the People Who Remember

 

Cold Springs: A Chorus of Voices

By Jerry Buchanan 

For generations, the spring at Friendship Holler—Cold Springs to most folks—has been more than a pipe in the mountain. It’s been a ritual, a landmark, a taste of home so pure that people still argue it’s the best water in Lee County, maybe the best anywhere.

David F. Hudson remembered taking samples to be tested, only to be told it was “the best water they’d ever seen.” Others didn’t need a lab report. They had a lifetime of proof.

Wanda Spangler drank it every time her family came down from Ohio and still does.

Christy Cantey remembered Sunday lines of people waiting with jugs.

James Owens joked that if it were unsafe, “half of Lee County would be dead.”

Charlotte Parsons‑Cooper still drives from Big Stone Gap with seven five‑gallon jugs to fill.

Joy Warrick carried it back to Indiana in a Coleman cooler.

Glenda Dotson Hubbard said the spring reminds her of simpler days in Pin‑a‑Lee.

Richard Dotson drank from it seventy years ago and is “still here.”

Yetta Scott remembered the shock of icy cold water on a hot day.

Scott Fleenor told how his mother and her twin carried jugs home from Puckett’s Creek as children.

Janice Perry drank it her whole life—“best water ever.”

Lisa Pennington still drinks it daily, better than bottled water.

Sandra Carter recalled her dad filling empty milk jugs.

Cheryl Alexander remembered collecting water in the late ’70s and early ’80s.

Heidan Nordson grew up on it and knows “hundreds of people who still drink from it.”

Shilda Mellon went with her grandparents decades ago; the memory still holds.

Bill Hensley compared it to the spring in Hagan Hollow—“best water you could find.”

Bobby Lewis drank it off and on for seventy years with no problems.

Suzi Carter remembered waiting in line, jugs in hand.

Judy Clayton loved the fresh taste on the way to her grandparents’ house.

David Gregory Jr. recognized the pipe instantly.

Katherine Bernard stopped there on every trip to Mamaw’s.

Shelia Suggs‑Carter remembered how cold it was.

Aggie Smith said a friend tested it and found it cleaner than city water.

Teresa Rhoten even made her “jungle juice” with it.

Tony Hines said when your water froze, that’s where you went.

Curtis Jackson has been drinking it for twenty years—“better than bottled water and it’s free.”

Kathy Martin called it “the best water ever.”

Susan Ramey said stopping there was a family tradition.

Craig and Kristie Hall thought it was even better than the pipe at Imboden.

Michelle Lawson grew up on it—“best clear cold water ever.”

Cheryl Hunsucker called it “God’s Water.”

Paul Livesay had cleaned the spring box years ago and remembered how good it was then.

Jody Moore noted that if it sits in a jug, a little sandy grit settles at the bottom—mountain minerals, nothing more.

Shirley Evans wished she lived closer so she could drink nothing else.

Ed Jones remembered a similar spring in Perry County with a lead pipe—“best water I ever drank.”

Preston Sword got water there in the ’50s and ’60s.

Nina Branson still sees cars lined up in summer.

Barb Garrett said her dad filled camping jugs every weekend for Norris Lake.

Eliesha Perkins compared it to the “spout” in Terry’s Fork, Harlan County—another cold, clean mountain spring.

Sandy Whittle stops every time she goes to Pennington Gap.

Ben Hoskins once met a man who had twenty years of test results showing Kentucky springs were among the cleanest around.

Teresa Hodgin never tasted better water anywhere.

Roger Ridings drank from Cold Springs many times growing up.

Brian Bentley called it some of the best-tasting water around.

Lee Cooper drank it often and never had a problem.

Not every voice agreed on the taste—Jeff Taylor admitted he only drinks it “if I’m parched and about to die”—but even that added to the charm. Mountain water has personality, and so do the people who defend it.

A few offered caution: David Ellison reminded folks that any open spring can be vulnerable to contamination, and that minerals from the aquifer make the water “hard.” But even he spoke with the tone of someone who once enjoyed it.

Through all the memories, one truth rises:

Cold Springs isn’t just water. It’s heritage.

A place where generations stopped, filled their jugs, cooled their hands, and carried a piece of the mountain home.