The term “Polar Bear Swim” conjures up visions of fluffy white bears frolicking in the ocean, protected by their warm coats and thick layer of fat. The actual insanity of this annual New Year’s Day ritual – repeated in thousands of communities worldwide – is quite different.
Vancouver’s Polar Bear Swim Club founder Peter Pantages first led a small band of crazies into the chill waters of English Bay on New Year’s Day, 1920, establishing a new tradition and setting the pattern for all future Polar Bear Swims.
At Armours Beach in Gibsons, Davis Bay in Sechelt, Millennium Park in Pender Harbour and Willingdon Beach in Powell River, the swimmers who line up for the plunge (paying fees to the local Lions Clubs) are always outnumbered by the spectators who arrive – wrapped in warm coats and toting hot drinks to ward off the chill - to view this lunacy. On the ads and websites this event is touted as being a refreshing way to bring in the new year, but really those words only touch the tip of the iceberg as far as the experience.
I was in Vancouver January 1st, and not on the Sunshine Coast for the 11:30AM leap-in. When we got down to English Bay just after 12PM I thought we were very late, but apparently in Vancouver they have to wait until 2:30PM for the water to warm up or something. This didn’t quite work out for me, as I had a chinchilla coming in that afternoon, and guinea pigs going out, so I had to decide on my own schedule. A couple ladies who had also been confused as to the starting time slipped into, and out of the ocean rather than missing out on the experience entirely, so I had a bit of a boost. The lifeguards told me the main swim was out to a fluorescent buoy 100 yards out, and as I have a history of not drowning I figured I could do it.
At this point in time I should mention I have training in first aid, and in lifeguarding. One of the biggest topics in regards to water is the possibility of hypothermia. Wikipedia defines it as: “a condition in which an organism's temperature drops below that required for normal metabolism and bodily functions.” There are three stages, the first involving shivering, goose bumps, numbness in extremities, and eventually a burning sensation which feels like the person is recovering, but is in fact moving into phase two. Phase two is a loss of muscle coordination, paleness to the skin, and more violent shivering. Phase three involves confusion, difficulty speaking, sluggishness, shivering stops, and parts of body start to shut down. I had read about these phases, and had been trained to treat them should they occur… in someone else.
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What an enlightening experience it was to realize I was in phase 1 before I was halfway to the buoy! My hands felt more like hooks on the ends of my arms, and I was having trouble breathing. I swam the rest of the way to the buoy on my back. Once there, I was less concerned with the accomplishment, and far more interested in the possibility that someone might have rowed out (with a big fluffy blanket and vat of hot chocolate) just to pick me up and take me back in. Nobody in sight except my fiancé bck on the beach, an audience of one shouting support.
Touching bottom well out from shore on the return swim, I stood and stumbled out of the ocean, noting my skin had never looked so pink. This is probably where many people get the “refreshing” idea: I looked newly born (though I felt half-dead.) As I doggedly headed for the washrooms to change into warm and dry clothes, I entered stage 2 of hypothermia (I had never known buttocks could take turns shivering).
If I had jumped in at any of the three Sunshine Coast sites, organizers would have ensured hot drinks were available on site, and a warm place to change was nearby. (The Vancouver group provided tea for those who took part at the 2.30 p.m. start time; early birds had to forage at a nearby overcrowded Starbuck’s.) If I’d been in Powell River, I could have dried out and warmed up with the Sewer to Sewer run right after the plunge, from Willingdon Beach to the Historic Townsite. I am the first in my family to brave the waters of English Bay on the first of January (resulting in many “you’re crazy” declarations on Facebook) but my mother takes honours for being the first in the family to do a Polar Bear Swim (at Davis Bay in 1998, soon after moving to the Coast). So, next year we’ll both be taking the plunge on the Coast (either “upper” or “lower” still to be determined) with a homey, caring community (and where my mother holds my family’s record for most crazy.)
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