Polar Bear! Polar Bear!

I don't know why, but I've always wanted to do a Polar Bear Swim. Every year after Christmas, I sort of half-heartedly tell myself that I'll do it, but then I forget or decide not to. Well, this year it was going to be different. I went around telling people that I was going to do it, making it harder to back out. And then this afternoon Stella and I bundled Lisa up in the stroller for a nap and we walked down to English Bay to watch the festivities. I had my swim trunks under my jeans and brought a towel and other stuff I'd need in case I decided to go in. I was still pretty tentative. At the end of my shower this morning I'd turned the hot water off and stood there under the cold spray for a brief moment. It was horrible, I didn't think I could actually submerge myself in water that cold.

It was a beautiful day for a Polar Bear Swim: 9°C, windy and raining lightly. Just the kind of day you'd like to toss off your warm clothes and dive into the frigid ocean. Of course, if there's any place in Canada where you'd want to go swimming on New Year's day, Vancouver is probably it. We arrived at the beach and there were throngs of people -- mostly spectators. People were dressed up in costumes, had their entire bodies painted blue (I think it was paint), one guy was wearing a ripped T-shirt with a picture of a custom BC license plate that said "ICEMAN". While Stella waited, I went and registered (it's free). The rules? At 2:15 you enter the "pen" which is an area of beach reserved for swimmers. At 2:30, you enter the water, then come back to the registration desk wet and get your button (pictured above). That's it.

We were there a little early, so we stood around after registering and watched the crowd. People were having fun, many were still drinking or drunk from the night before. The Master of Ceremonies with the bullhorn was shouting out useful tips, such as "don't drink before entering the water" and "hypothermia is bad for you". At 2:15 I stripped to my shorts and sandals and moved into the "pen". It started to rain harder. I found myself a spot in the crowd about fifteen meters from the beach. Three guys ran by carrying a large Mexican flag -- I'm not sure what the significance of that was, but it was nice because the flag briefly shielded me from the rain. It was 2:20, and all of sudden people ahead of me are screaming and rushing into the water. I didn't hear a siren or see a flag, but people were moving. Perhaps my watch was wrong; perhaps someone decided to get things started a little early. I didn't care. I doffed my sandals and made for the water.

As I approached the beach, the view ahead changed abruptly from a huge crowd of people rushing into the water, to a huge crowd of people rushing back out. A Polar Bear Swim is apparently not a lengthy procedure. My foot hit the water. I suppose the water was cold -- I'd heard on the radio the night before that the water temperature would be about 8°C -- but frankly I'd been standing in the wind and rain in my bathing suit for long enough that the temperature difference didn't seem so bad. Certainly not as bad as the cold shower. I kept on going, heartened that it didn't seem too cold, and also wanting to avoid getting trampled. Knee deep. Waist deep. Commit. I lunged forward, hitting my goal of "swimming" (i.e. being buoyant for a moment or two and submerged up to my neck). A moment later, I joined the crowd headed for the beach. Elapsed time: maybe 20 seconds between my foot hitting the water and it hitting the sand again.

Once out of the water, I was struck by how cold I wasn't. I was standing there, dripping wet and naked in the rain, and I felt pretty good. I felt like I could have walked home like that -- it just didn't seem that cold out anymore. I picked up my souvenir button, got changed into my clothes and we walked home.

So, now I can say that I've done a Polar Bear Swim. I'm a member of the club. I've got the button. Would I do it again? I think so. It wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined, and it was pretty fun. Next time I'll have to talk/cajole a friend or two into coming along.