Empire polar dip not for the 99 percent
By Jack Gyr
Sun contributor
Ninety-nine percent of sane humans wouldn’t consider jumping into ice water. Yet every February, 50 or more people scream and laugh and jump through a hole in the ice of South Bar Lake in Empire. Sanity tests are not a required for participation. Typically there are 50 to 60 dippers and 80 onlookers watching and cheering. A few years ago a Venezuelan exchange student at Glen Lake Schools ventured to the polar dip. I don’t think he had ever seen snow before, let alone an iced-over lake. He jumped in and, back on the ice, gave a huge smile and victory fist-pump. There was so much applause that he smiled and jumped in again.
So what does it feel like to jump into 33-degree icy water? Actually, the moment of submersion is so brief that the cold feeling is quickly replaced with one of warmth; of standing on the ice afterwards and feeling flushed, warm and laughing at those still jumping in. There’s certainly a sense of celebration, jubilation and “Wow, I did it!” that goes along with doing something that most people consider craziness.
I was one of the 99 percent confirmed non-dippers for a long time. But sanity is sometimes overbearingly insane and one must test the edges in the spirit of exploration. The moment of conversion for me came on a hot July day on the Empire beach. Several friends and I were lolling on the sand when one posed the question; “Have you ever jumped through the ice during the Winter Fest?” The image was much less chilling in the heat of summer than it would have been a week before the actual event. I returned “No, but I’ll do it if you do!” This typical teenage dialogue was being exchanged by 50-year-olds, an obvious red flag to sanity. As is often the case, a foolish challenge gets born and multiplies. Within two minutes there were four of us beating our chests (on a hot July day) and high-fiving it that we’d jump through a hole in the ice six months later. There must have been someone listening that resisted calling 911.
Contrary to most crowd-attended events, there’s no coaching needed for this one. No swan dive with sustained grace or judges scribbling hastily on notepads. It is, literally, a plunge and then scramble out of the hole as if an arctic alligator were chasing you. There are some important lessons though. First of all, get real warm beforehand. We put on layers of sweats and go for a jog ahead of this swim. In 15 minutes we’re sweating and our core temperatures are boiling. Brief contact with ice water is virtually a pleasure with a nuclear core temperature like this. There are some who dress up for the dip as if it was Halloween. That’s fun but there’s a frigid downside. It’s like wearing a refrigerator when you get out: heavy and frozen. I recommend the opposite. Wear speedo-like shorts so that a quick towel swipe when you’re out lets that boiling core temperature restore the sense of warmth (even when posing nearly-nude for victory photos in the snow). If you want to look like a lion on Halloween, use face paints. Another important tip: wear neoprene booties for the event or have flip-flops waiting when you exit the water. Otherwise you’re standing on snow and ice with bare feet and not in the mood or patient about those fun photos. Also, pre-select good antifreeze to have in a flask. We like Drambuie.
There are some polar dippers who do not immediately exit the hole. They paddle about as if genetic engineers pumped them with penguin DNA. They quietly reject offers for help from onlookers. You might think they are a breed of blubber-bellies, but I’ve seen tooth-pick-type forms relaxing in ice water. These are the ones I think need brain scans.
Okay, I lied in the second paragraph of this article. The feeling underwater is intense and memorable. There is a lighting-bolt sense of freezing cold. I think what scares most people is thinking they would panic. There’s no time for that. Your brain is the slow-poke here. By the time you consciously think about the situation your adrenalin engines have already fired up and your muscles have jetted you out of the hole. It is then that your brain’s function returns and you consciously feel warm and thankful for life. It is a physical epiphany that opens ones eyes and all of your senses, a great feeling. Plus, everyone is now laughing, including you.
Join Jack Gyr and other crazies on Saturday in Empire for the Winter Fest Polar Dip.
