Shudder, shiver, tremble, quiver: Swimming with the Icebergers!

It’s an understatement to say that this week’s blog excursion elicited some strong reactions from family and friends. I’ve been called everything from ‘really brave’ to ‘batshit crazy’ and warned that I’ll catch pneumonia/ have a heart attack/ wind up with nipples so hard they’ll scratch the paint off my car.

Who would have guessed that the prospect of swimming in the sea, at the crack of dawn, in the middle of a Melbourne winter would make people so damn fretful?

The idea of doing the swim was borne at my friend Morven’s pirate themed party a few weeks ago. She mentioned she was keen to come along on one of the blog dates, and that she’d always been curious about doing a winter swim with The Icebergers. There was an effusive declaration on my part, something along the lines of ‘that sounds awesome!’ and we clinked our cups together which, as we all know, is a binding contract. The deal was sealed.

Arrrrr, we’ve had a brilliant idea.

Note to self: deals that are brokered after many mulled wines, when one of you is wearing an electric blue merkin and the other is dressed as Pop Up Pirate, where your ‘toast’ is made clinking novelty Captain Morgan Cannonball cups–as a rule, those deals should really be re-examined in the cold light of day. Why did I agree to a winter swim in the very wee hours???? I’m a person who loves my sleep. I am not a dawn girl. The snooze button on my alarm clock has a perfect little index finger-shaped groove in it. And I love winter  when I am dressed appropriately for it. That means tights, scarf, coat, beanie, gloves… my policy is basically  ‘expose my face, because I need that for seeing, breathing, talking and eating.’ No winter ensemble has ever involved a swimsuit unless the laundry situation has gotten so dire that I’m out of clean underwear. (In other words, no winter ensemble has ever involved a swimsuit unless you count last week, and a fortnight before that).

As it turns out, neither Morven or myself are strangers to cold water swims, both having braved the chilly waters of Loch Ness whilst visiting Scotland. (Why? Because we are Australian and a body of water was there in front of us. We’d disrobe and jump into a puddle if it looked promisingly deep). We compared notes about our Nessie experiences: both of us lasted all of 3 minutes in the water before feeling short of breath and developing burning pain in our arms and legs. Both of us harboured some fairly melodramatic thoughts at this point eg. ‘this must be EXACTLY what people experienced when the Titanic sunk… except you know, without the shoreline, and ready supply of towels and dry clothes only 20 metres away…’ Neither of us saw the mysterious Loch Ness monster. Robbed.

By way of background, The Icebergers are a year round, open water swimming group who swim out of the Middle Brighton Sea Baths, and have been doing so since the 1880’s.  (Not the current group of swimmers of course–there are many benefits to cold water swimming but a life expectancy of 134+  sadly isn’t one of them). They discourage use of wetsuits, and during winter they brave outside temperatures as low as 2 degrees celsius, and water temperatures around 8 degrees celsius. A swim costs $4.95 and if you want a swim plus a steam/sauna, it’s $14.95.

All this, for only $4.95!

The Friday before our swim, work colleagues wished me luck in that sombre tone that implies ‘well, at least I’ve said my goodbyes.’ And I have to say, the weather Friday night seemed as though it was sent to test my resolve. There were freezing winds up to 85 km/hr and it was bone chillingly cold. My phone was right there, on my bedside table, practically begging me to send a text asking ‘raincheck?’ But I didn’t crack, neither did Morven, and I was at her house at 6:50am ready to head to the beach. In the dark.

Both of us were dressed for the 8 degree weather, that is, we looked like members of a cult dedicated to the worship of Polar Fleece. Like we had fallen right out of the pages of a Kathmandu catalogue. We were joined by my lovely friend Andy Moratis, who very kindly volunteered to meet us at the ungodly hour of 7:15am to be our photographer. Massive thanks to him!!!

Anyway! This was the sight that greeted us. The absolute antithesis of sun/surf/summer fun:

It’s all so blue grey. Like my mottled flesh is going to be when they pull my limp, lifeless form from the water after my heart attack.

The Icebergers hadn’t yet arrived so I left Morven and Andy to chat and went to get some pictures/ psych myself up about going into the water.

Trying to convince myself that the water looks downright INVITING. Nope.

The view back to The Baths and the cafe. Lattes. Eggs. Bacon…Let’s not swim and just say we did!

I returned to Andy and Morven to find that she’d taken the big step of unzipping her polar fleece to expose T Shirt underneath. She declared that her strategy was one of ‘gradually acclimatising.’ This was going to be a strip tease best viewed in time lapse photography.  We bit the bullet and headed to the change rooms to say an impassioned goodbye to our precious winter layers.

There was some undignified whimpering on my part. Not going to lie.

That fine line between a smile and a jaw that’s simply clenched from the cold

Enough posturing on the pier though, it was time for immersion. I headed down the stairs first. My feet hit the water and my shoulders instantly hunched upwards in that irritatingly wussy way, signaling ooh! The water is cold and I’m henceforth obliged to proceed slowly and theatrically–

Posture that tells you a silent scream is happening

Now you’re probably wondering what noise we both made after we went under water for the first time and came up for air? Mine was a very low volume, prolonged ‘h-h-h-ho’ sound:

Faces of Shock 1

Morven on the other hand, she made a high-pitched noise that I can only describe as ‘the closest thing to sonar I have ever heard a human being emit.’ It was extraordinary.

Faces of Shock 2 (note please my expression of genuine compassion)

So once you get over the initial shock of the cold, and stop making your high pitched noises, there is a slight, sort of stinging pain which only lasts a little while, and then after that, you strangely feel really, really, really good. I’ve heard people call cold water swimming invigorating but it’s more than that. (One article I read says it’s because your body releases endorphins to alleviate any pain you might feel from the cold?) We felt really alert, energised, and had a genuine buzz. Having said that, I’m certain at least 90% of people reading this will scoff that they can get that from a good coffee.

Not drowning, waving. Very happily.

The look of utterly demented enthusiasm.

We stayed in the water for about 15 minutes, a lot of the information warns you not to overdo it on your first time–like getting used to Bikram yoga but at the other end of the spectrum. We chatted with some of the lovely Icebergers after we got out, they attempted to encourage us to brave a longer open water swim but the sauna was beckoning and we were done for the day.  Into the sauna/ steam room for some well deserved warming up. You should definitely spring for that in your ticket price. It’s divinity.

Hitting the change rooms we found more of the Icebergers had just arrived and chatted with them whilst changing. Got some useful tips for future reference: Bluetack in your ears will stop the freezing water getting in so a) your head won’t feel so cold and b) less chance of any nasty bugs. Vaseline on your nipples under your swimsuit is recommended a) to reduce chafing and b) because big tubs of Vaseline on counters in your home are guaranteed to make guests feel slightly uncomfortable.

Strangely, it was after getting dressed that I felt the cold most acutely. I can only guess that my body was looking forward to being properly bundled up, and when I pulled on a pair of tracksuit pants it was like “THAT’S IT? ONE LAYER? ONE LOUSY LAYER?!” and proceeded to turn on me physiologically. I was trembling and shaking so severely for the next half hour that I had to choose my breakfast based on the criteria ‘what menu option WON’T require use of cutlery?’ (toasted ham and cheese sandwich, for the record). Had I attempted knife and fork usage it would have resulted in non stop clattering, and sympathetic glances from other diners, wondering what neurological disorder I was battling.

Anyway, when it’s all said and done, I would actually go back there and do another swim during winter, but I’m not trying to sell it to myself. Swimming with the Icebergers: Jarrod, would you go there?

Footnote: I did not take any paint off my car with my nipples. Those scratches were already there. I swear.

Wetsuit regrets not checking the dress code.

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