By 1900 the West Kirby Swimming Club had been formed, using the Marine Lake for galas and competitions and for regular pleasure swimming.
The Council provided two changing barges, and soon began to build up the facilities that would become West Kirby Baths.
In 1913 the first part of the baths to be built was a large glass shelter house on the promenade with a curved concrete wall in front of it. The shelter formed the centre of the main design and was a regular meeting place for people, who could admire the views during the winter months and were protected from the weather. It was later developed into the baths cafe.
The next stage was the building of the concrete apron which shelved towards the water with steps on either side. The ladies’ changing rooms were added to one side of the shelter house, and the men’s changing rooms to the other. Each wing also had shelters facing the promenade. The baths continued to be built during World War I and the ladies’ changing rooms opened in 1915. At this stage the swimming bath was not roped off from the Marine Lake.
In 1920 a floating diving platform was added. The pool was refurbished in 1930, adding a large concrete island with diving boards and a slide.
Heather Chapman remembers many happy summers here. “The pool staff were like extended family and during inclement weather we were allowed to make dens in the cubicles. We also played cards and huddled under blankets when it was cold. Auntie Trixie was in charge of the cafe and had strict rules. The chief lifeguard was Gordon Norman, and later Joe Evans, and the baths superintendent was Mr Dutton, who was also the superintendent of Hoylake Baths. The high tides brought the jellyfish season and the lifeguards used to scoop them out of the water and ladle them into the wire bins. Swimmers were not allowed into the baths during the very high tides, when the water often crept up the apron to the changing rooms. Some strong swimmers were allowed in after the tide had turned. It seemed very exciting to run down the flooded apron and suddenly reach the hidden water’s edge.”
She continues, “I loved the baths, but never ventured down the steps. They were often slippery with seaweed and barnacles clung to the side walls. It was much easier to just dive straight in, and I always avoided putting my feet on the bottom. You never knew just what you might stand on.”
The Baths closed in the late 1960s.
Thanks to Heather Chapman in Heswall Magazine.