Caught in Time's Currents

Fowler created an eclectic coalition of politicians, scientists and watermen. They won the lawsuit, and, for a while, everything seemed to fall into place. A judge declared the state's plans for managing the river faulty. A state agency was set up to assume responsibility. Then in December 1979, Gov. Harry R. Hughes (D) agreed to take a boat down the river with Fowler -- a trip that turned Hughes into one of the river's strongest allies.

But eventually, scientists say, the ferocious growth of the 1990s overtook the river's recovery, as its quiet backwaters were transformed by subdivisions, big-box stores and growing towns.

Through it all, Fowler has continued telling the story of his river and its clarity in his youth. "I was up to my chest," he'd say over and over, "and could still see my feet."

It became almost a mantra in his speeches. The story had a mythic quality to it, like Paul Bunyan and his ox or John Henry and his hammer. Soon, a poem about Fowler and his river appeared in local papers, written by a county folksinger. The singer, a friend, told Fowler that to help people understand, he needed to do more than just talk about the river; he needed to wade in.

So, that summer in 1988, in an act that has become almost folklore in Calvert, Fowler stepped into the river and became a symbol. He told the small crowd that gathered about the river of his youth, so clean and clear. Then, he turned and walked until he could no longer see his shoes. When he stopped, the water was at his shins.

Since that day almost two decades ago, the annual wade-in has become the driving force behind the river cleanup.

As many as 400 people have shown up for the June event. Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. (R) has plunged into the water with Fowler, as have U.S. senators, state delegates and others. The wade-ins have drawn the kind of attention to the river's plight that Fowler has dreamed of most his life.

But even with the renewed interest, last month when Fowler waded in for the 19th year, nothing much had changed. The water clouded at a depth of 27 inches, the same as last year and far short of Fowler's "up to my chest" goal of 63 inches.

Every day, 60 million gallons of wastewater flow into the Patuxent. Inside that discharge is nitrogen and phosphorus -- two particularly harmful nutrients that spawn algae blooms. The algae are literally choking the marine life by depleting oxygen in the water. They have also all but eliminated sea grass in some areas by blocking out sunlight.

By some measures, the 110-mile river has not significantly worsened since its lows in the 1970s and 1980s -- no small achievement, scientists say, in the face of furious growth and increased discharges. But neither has it made any great strides.

When Fowler tells his story these days, there is a tone of desperation and frustration in his voice, family and friends said. He clings to his good health, exercising an hour and half a day with wind sprints along his driveway. He competes every year in the state Senior Olympics and keeps a stack of more than a hundred medals in his basement.

He is a man who believes in preserving what you have, but he also keeps close measure of how much is left.

"I intend to fight as long as the Lord gives me strength," he said, "but I know my time is coming."

Near his exercise room in a small closet, Fowler keeps the outfit he has worn to the wade-in every year since it started: bib overalls like the ones he wore as a boy in the river, a straw hat stained with summer sweat and the old sneakers he has tried so hard to see all these years through muddy waters.

The shoes, especially, have been worn out by the years. The canvas is so frayed, you can see his toes wiggling through large tears in the fabric. After this summer's wade-in, as he has done for many years now, he cleaned the sneakers carefully with a bit of detergent and a soft hand towel.

He does not know whether the shoes will last long enough for him to wade out one day chest-high in the river and see his toes wiggling through the holes. He does not know if he himself will last long enough to see that day.

And so, he begins his mornings on his knees with a prayer.