Once Clean Rivers
Why there is no such thing as a simple swim anymore. A story.
Last weekend, I hiked on the Billy Goat Trail that travels along the Potomac River just 20 minutes north of DC. I had never been here before and I was looking forward to the gorges and, and under this hot sun, maybe a quick dip in the river while I was at it. I had read that swimming in this part of the river was illegal due to the high rates of drowning and rescue that take place each year. Still, these are risks that I am willing to ignore, ranking my own ability to navigate moving waters higher than most though by no means an expert. By the time we got to the cliffs that hang over the river, I could see the green waters pushing through the rock passage carved by time and creek. We stopped on the cliff to have a snack and look out further. I could hear the young men 10 feet over talking about whether or not you could survive jumping off the cliff. One of them seemed confident in their opinions, though it seemed apparent he had no idea what he was talking about. He said that cliff jumpers will throw rocks into the water to see how deep it is. The logic of this method was lacking and I wondered if the one time he had seen a friend do this was all that accounted for the fact. It didn’t really matter, I supposed. They were having fun in nature, talking about doing stupid things that neither they nor I had the guts or lack of brains to do. Why bother judging them except for trying to foster some sense of loaded pride for myself. This bullshit machismo would make sense. We were on a crowded popular hiking trail where locals, tourists, and families would come. Most of them being people who reside in cities by choice and, when touched by nature, they are illiterate to their primal senses. Balance, intuition, and endurance are replaced by shower squeegees, Panera Bread, and gravity controlled weight machines. I balk more loudly at these people as I realize that I, myself, am becoming one of them.
Special K required an expedited send off as he had to take a shit and was eager to get to the trailhead. I had a roll of toilet paper but Special K must have been craving porcelain as the offer was quickly declined. We descended further into the gorge, finally following a crack down to a sandy beach with offset rocks rising from the shore waters. I saw a man in there, swimming peacefully against the current, and I was eager to join him. I asked Han and Special K if they’d like to take a dip. Special K pearled sweat down this forehead and his face reflected the eagerness of his bowels. He said he’d meet me at the end. Han looked and said “I’ll stay and hang out on the beach if you want to go it” and she frowned “but this water is too polluted to convince myself to go into but don’t let me stop you.” She said this last part earnestly. If I saw the toxic risk to my health as minimal, then I should go in, but Han could no longer blind herself from the truth. The serenity of a dip in this river, as most rivers, was gone for her.
I looked at her, probably as upset as I if not more about this truth, and knew I had to make a decision. A decision that I have been trying to be more responsible at making to be true to myself and my deeper sense of ethics. I could either ignore science, ignore empirical evidence, ignore my own ability to harm myself and embrace the luxury of being a carefree consequence ignoring human or I could be rational, intelligent, and self-limiting for the sake of elongating and improving my lifespan, the lives of many others, and mother nature. The idea of choosing the latter seems so genuine yet so fucking tame and I’m often so quick to lean into self-hatred that the idea of hurting myself to amplify the moment didn’t force much pause in my ego. Yet, this time around, I decided to keep walking and pass on my river excursion. Had I not had such rational friends with me, I can’t say whether or not I would have been nearly so wise.
I looked at the man swimming. I imagined the poisons leaching into his skin that will later assist in the growth of aggressive tumors on his pancreas, and yet, I was still jealous of his experience. What have we done to this world to let the biggest and most magical rivers turn into our toxic dump sites despite the fact that we still use them for agriculture, recreational, and “clean water” supplies? As my nieces and nephews grow old, I’ll have to explain to them that water is bad, that virtually ever river will make them sick and make their future children mutated and disabled. I already cringe when I see the children of others swimming and smiling in waters that I know contain as much sewage as they do insecticide. These thoughts burn in me and I begin to spiral. I remember everything that is going on in nature. The destruction. The mass extinction. The irreversible effects. We are flooring in and driving straight towards the dam wall. I should have just gone swimming. It was a beautiful day and I bet the water was the perfect temperature.
