Polar Plunge

It is wintertime. It is cold. The calendar has turned and it’s New Years Day. Gone are the warm days of summer that end with glowing sunsets across the lake. Gone is the beauty of fall when trees burst into glory and display their brilliant coats of red, yellow and gold. It is wintertime. It is cold.

Sparks jump and crackle, the oversized stone fireplace of the lodge in full blaze. Outside the floor to ceiling windows, snow flurries dance in the brisk wind to add a touch of white to the otherwise gray winter day.

Above the mantle, the iron hands of the clock continue their trek as the top of the hour draws near. With each passing minute the lodge begins to fill. When I first arrived there were just a few others here, now the room is crowded, cheers and best wishes to the New Year filling the air.

Looking to the front door I see a familiar face scurry in, “wow, it’s cold” says Patty, rubbing her arms and curling her body as she tries to warm herself from the winter air. “Take your coat off and stand by the fire,” I say to her as she walks across the room drawn to the promised warmth of the now roaring fire.

From across the room we hear a loud voice shout out, “Are you ready? Are you ready?” he says again. There is a noticeable rise in the energy of the room. The leader of the club makes his away to the front of the lodge, a piece of chalk in hand.
Approaching the blackboard positioned for all to see, he begins to write. This is what we have been waiting for; this is why we are here. The numbers say it all, ‘Air Temperature 20, Water Temperature 36’

In unison we rise from the couches and chairs scattered throughout the warm lodge. The time has come. One by one we exit the lodge through the large glass doors overlooking the grassy slope leading to the lake at the bottom of the hill.

Like a flock of penguins herded together to battle the harsh winter air, we pull at our hats and tug at our coats as the wind rips across the lake and smacks us in the face. “One minute” yells the leader of the flock, “one minute.”

It begins, we shed the outerwear that has protected us from the cold of the day. Off go the coats and sweatpants that have kept us warm. Off go the gloves and hats we were wearing when we left the lodge. I look around, it’s 20 degrees as nearly 100 people stand at the lakeshore. We are in bathing suits.

The leader of the club begins the final countdown, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.” We’re off, in a pack we run across the sandy beach and dive into the 36 degree water of the lake. It is wintertime. It is cold.