Can I swim in this?

And now, kids, it's time again for Mike G., the science flea - everyday science explained by a guy who earned middling to subpar grades in biology, chemistry and physics. 

In this week's episode, Mike asks the age-old question: "Should I really swim in that?"

Here in Hampton Roads, water is everywhere you look. It's well known that the area's leaders only chose the name Hampton Roads, a nautical term, because "Waterworld" sounded too much like an amusement park.

Water is everywhere. It is life, it is salvation and it is taunting you to play Marco Polo in it.

Consider a typical summer day in Hampton Roads. It's 95 degrees. It's humid. You're out near a lake or a pond or a river, peering into the water, when your reflection looks back at you and says, "Come on in. The water's great. Do a belly flop! Unless... you're chicken. You're not chicken... are you?"

Your reflection is a meaner, more insecure version of yourself and all it can say is, "Bawk, bawkbawkbawkbawk!"

But what does unbiased science say? In one word: nuh-uh.

Jim English is director of environmental health programs at Old Dominion University. He's all for splashing around and executing a few cannonballs, depending on where you are. If your favorite spot is the Oceanfront or Ocean View, places regularly monitored by the Virginia Department of Health, then jump on in and watch out for the jellies!

With these places and others that are regularly tested, you can log on to the department's Web page and see if any swimming advisories are in effect.

But what about less obvious locales? What about the retaining pond in front of Mount Trashmore? What about the borrow pits where the ducks like to poop? What about jumping into the Lafayette River after a sweaty canoe ride?

Everyone's heard the urban legends about the water: My fiancee/friend/dog who lives on a Chesapeake golf course chased a Frisbee/football/fly-ash distributor and fell into the water. Had to bathe in nothing but tomato sauce for a week, didn't smell right for two months. Tongue fell out, but after the first two weeks or so, she/he/it was fine.

What's left to do but slowly back away from the water? Foolishness. But then another insanely hot day comes along, one beyond the miserable norm. Temptation returns, and the nearest body of water beckons. Is this the spot for a swan dive?

Not unless it's tested. Scientifically. And in South Hampton Roads that pretty much means mostly the Oceanfront or the Bay beaches.

Many other natural bodies of water, or at least, many other bodies of what appears to be water, could be a risk.

The Norfolk Department of Health won't say the water in other places is dangerous, just that they don't know it's safe. A Virginia Beach firm that tests water samples told me they advise customers to "swim at your own risk."

The water might look great. I drove around last week during another scorcher, eyeing bodies of water I'd want to take a dip in. A suburban lake in Chesapeake. A canoe portage in Virginia Beach. The Elizabeth River in Norfolk. I took nonscientific samples in Mason jars. Sometimes the water was pristine, clear enough to serve with dinner. Other times it looked like weak Yoo-hoo.

But what's the worst that could happen?

Jim English has a bumper sticker in his office: "E-coli happens." That's true. So do a whole host of other re-creational water illnesses. Cryptosporidium. Giardia. Norovirus. Shigella. Diarrhea. Rashes.

Gross.

Monday, in the name of science, I donned a wetsuit, snorkel, flippers and a Finding Nemo inner tube. I dove into a section of the Lafayette River where I couldn't see the bottom. A half second later, with water up to my waist, the flippers were submerged in a slimy layer of mud. The musky, low-tide smell of the water weighed on my fingers as I typed hours later.

Experiences like that may be among the most frustrating aspects of life in Hampton Roads. Twenty or 30 years ago, no one would have thought anything of making the Intracoastal Waterway their own wave pool. Today, it's become a frustrating cost-benefit analysis.

We don't know it's safe. We don't know it's dangerous, either.

What to do?

You could take a chance, jump in, try not to swallow and afterward exfoliate in a hot shower.

Or you could collect samples of the water in sterilized containers, deliver them to a lab, wait a couple of days to see if any bacteria grow, sweat a lot in the meantime and then pay for the results.

Or you could just wait for the smell at low tide. That might convince you a glass of tap water is a better way to cool off.

Depending on where it came from.

Mike Gruss, (757) 446-2277, mike.gruss@pilotonline.com