give it all you got
Right up to your chest.
And then you pick your spot.
Next you take your peepers
And cast them slowly down
On the day we see our feet again
There’ll be celebration in this town.
—excerpted from “Bernie Fowler Day: A Guide to Wading in the Southern Maryland Waters” by Tom Wisner
Back in the 1950s and 60s, former State Senator Bernie Fowler remembers wading out chest-deep into the Patuxent River near his home on Broomes Island and seeing crabs scuttling by his feet.
Over the years, Fowler noticed the Calvert County waterway becoming murky and devised a simple water-quality test. At the first Patuxent “wade-in” in 1988, he joined hands with local politicians and friends and waded in to see how far his feet would remain visible; at that inaugural event, his white sneakers vanished from sight after only 10 inches.
Since then, Fowler has held the yearly wade-in as a call to action—as well as a way to measure success in cleaning up the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries.
Hearing that call, I decide to do a three-waterway test of my own.
Inspired by Fowler, I don bright white Keds for the Spa Creek Wade-In at Truxton Park in Annapolis. Spa Creek, which joins the Severn River in Annapolis, is a tributary encircled by development and teeming with boats. Today’s wade-in group—organized by the Maryland Department of Natural Resources’ (DNR) Tributary Strategies Team—meets at 9 a.m. for pre-wading doughnuts and coffee.
Last year’s experiment only yielded 25 inches, so I’m eager to see how far we’ll get this time.
“Wading in is like a rite of passage for the creek,” says Claudia Donegan of DNR, as we prepare to get wet.
Holding hands, 20 of us step into the lapping river. Cool water creeps past my knees as my white Keds turned greenish-brown, clouded by the murky water rising toward the bottom of my shorts. Suddenly, I can’t distinguish my shoe outline. This year’s depth: 27 inches.
The following week, I head south to Calvert County for the largest—and original—event, Fowler’s annual Patuxent River wade-in, which includes fried chicken and lemonade.
The narrow shoreline at Jefferson Patterson Park and Museum in St. Leonard is buzzing with 100 people in T-shirts and shorts. Fowler—wearing his traditional denim overalls, denim shirt, straw hat, and white sneakers (now brownish with holes in the toes)—leads the proceedings.
Like at Spa Creek, we join hands and enter the river, my white Keds soon growing hazy. As the water covers my legs, I lose sight of my feet and hear Fowler, down the line, make the official call: 34.5 inches, the deepest since 2004.
Fowler says he’s seen a minor improvement in the crab and oyster populations, but he doesn’t expect to see significant change for the better in his lifetime.
“But now, we have documents that are legally enforceable,” he says, referring to the 2010 settlement with the EPA that mandates cleaner water.
“That’s encouraging, and gives us reason for optimism and hope.”
Several weeks later, I strike out on my own to conduct a one-woman wade-in on the banks of the Severn. It’s a hot, humid day capped with hazy skies and thunderstorm warnings.
Just below the Severn River Bridge, choppy waters flow toward Jonas Green Park’s shore as I don my now-not-so-bright Keds one last time. As soon as I step off from the sand, brackish water leaks into my shoes, a refreshing relief from the heat.
The river is brown and sediment-laden—partly, no doubt, from being churned by recent storms. With the water just at my knees, my Keds disappear completely: a mere 18.25 inches.
Over the years, Fowler’s wade-in has recorded clarity as high as 44.5 inches (in 1997) and as low as eight (in 1989). Whatever the next result, it’ll serve as a tangible reminder that each of us can do our part to keep Maryland’s waters clean. Even if it means getting our feet wet.



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