Ave, ave, ave Maria! The hymn is sounded on the morning of the Assumption of Mary Ave Maria of Lourdes on a woodland path along the Wye. Eighty residents of Hay-on-Wye, a town on the border of England and Wales, accompany the wooden statue of Mary, carried by three men and wrapped in a cloud of incense. Shortly before, she was taken from St Mary’s, but her journey leads not to heaven, but to the dying river that flows behind the Anglican church. ‘The river is terribly polluted’, mourns Father Richard Williams, the man behind the ceremony, ‘in the past you could see the salmon jumping out of the water. Not anymore.’
After the procession, ‘Our Lady of the Waters and the Wye’ is bolted onto a makeshift catamaran, ready for a five-day journey through Herefordshire. Helmsman is the sculptor Philip Chatfield, who chiseled the statue out of a Scandinavian pine tree especially for this occasion. Every day he will stop at a church or cathedral to have Mary bless and sing to her. Whether she can bring the salmon, trout and kingfisher back to the 250-mile river remains to be seen, but at the very least Maria can draw attention to the bleak state of the Wye and other British rivers.
Open sewers
Britain’s rivers have turned into open sewers in recent years. In many cases this has to do with privatized water companies that discharge sewage water. Officially, this is only allowed in the event of abundant rain, but in practice it appears to be routine. The Environmental Agency (the British Directorate-General for Public Works and Water Management) is struggling with a lack of money and is also too busy building dikes and implementing Brexit. When a water company is caught in the act, at most a warning will follow. Less than a year ago, Conservative MPs voted against a proposal to crack down on polluters.
At the Wye, meandering through the sparsely populated border region, there is an even bigger problem. In the past six years, dozens of chicken factories have been set up along the riverbank. Farmers who used to keep sheep, a branch of agriculture that has been under pressure since Brexit, have switched to lucrative poultry farming. There are now twenty million chickens housed here. “The feed for the chickens comes from South America,” says Tom Tibbits (43), chairman of the Friends of the Upper Wye campaign group, “and five-sixths of what goes in the chickens comes out again. Feces are used as manure and eventually end up in the river.’
During the ceremony, Tibbits, a physicist and cider maker, explains that awareness of the problem arose during the lockdown. “People spent more time by the river and they noticed that it was in desperate need of life.” Because the authorities did not take the problem seriously, hundreds of people have started testing themselves. Tibbits enthusiastically tells how he measures the phosphate level in a colorimeter, nitrate with a rod that changes color and the turbidity of the water with a Secchi disc. ‘We send the results to the agency. If the authorities don’t do it, citizens have to take action themselves.’
A layer of mucus
Even without chemical experiments it can be seen that there is something wrong with the water quality. While waiting for the catamaran to launch, Emily Hedges, a 55-year-old photo editor, points to the stones in the salty water. ‘They are very slippery because of a layer of slime, just stand on them. That was never the case before. And sometimes the water smells like chicken, especially on hot days. I don’t swim here anymore unfortunately. You’re not going to swim in an open sewer, are you? The only people who swim here are unsuspecting tourists.’ Campaigner Tibbits points to another sign: ‘The water ranunculus has almost disappeared. That’s bad, because it’s a source of life.’
Local politicians have argued for designating the Wye as a water conservation area, but the responsible Secretary of State, Rebecca Pow, has declined to comment. After all, it would lead to more regulations for farms. Last year swimmer Angela Jones swam in the river with a coffin to draw attention to the pollution, so now it’s Maria’s turn, who will travel 125 kilometers.
Human intervention
Chatfield and Father Richard came up with the idea for the pilgrimage, after which psychiatrist Rachel Jenkins took on the practical side. She found in her father’s diaries a newspaper clipping from 1968 about the pollution of the Wye, even then. The alarming newspaper article, which is featured in the church’s exhibit on river gods, Wye flora and sustainable farming, also gives rise to hope. Thanks to human intervention, the river became cleaner from the 1970s onwards – why couldn’t that happen again? According to Tibbits, this was partly due to the environmental policy of the EEC, the predecessor of the European Union, to which the British had joined in 1973.
When the final preparations for the boat trip are complete, members of the church choir of St Mary’s resume the song of praise to the Blessed Virgin. Chatfield and a fellow canoeist walk the catamaran into the water, followed by a lady who sprinkles the vessel with rose petals. Shortly after the departure, the colossus stranded on the rocks below Hay Bridge due to the very low water level and low hanging branches hit Maria’s head. After some pulling and pushing, the paddling can be resumed. As they wave goodbye, the rain begins to fall that many have longed for. Father Richard looks gratefully at the clouded sky. “Mary is already starting to help.”