Yesterday I received a text from a friend asking me for advice on how to acclimate to the cold water.
And yesterday my answer to him was this,
“Love to share what I’ve found helps! It is cold. My best advice is to get in slowly. Like walk in up to your knees. Stand there. Look around. Wait. Like really wait. Your legs will acclimate. Wait until they adjust, then take another step. Lower your hands in. Swirl the water around. Splash your arms a few times. Then your face. Wait. Prepare your mind. Dive in. There is something called “brown fat” that builds up in bodies that subject themselves to the cold. I don’t know if I’ve built that up or my mind has accepted that there is no choice. Maybe both. I likely have the added benefit of more body fat than you, being female helps too on this. We are more fatty. Finally an advantage to carrying a few extra pounds!! I was reading about this famous swimmer—a woman—set records for cold open water swimming. She has incredibly high fat ratio….it makes a difference.
And there is always a wetsuit! This morning when I felt the air temp, I found myself pondering when I’ll start wearing mine again. It’s a fine line between safe cold swimming and hypothermia. Yesterday I had mild body drop after my morning swim—as in chilled to my core set in AFTER I got out. It lasted for a good hour. Always warm back up slowly, get dry clothes on, hat, sweater. Drink warm fluid and water. Good luck! Let me know how it goes. I hope this helps.
Well, let’s just say today I was reminded by the icy waters off Crystal Springs to take my own advice, and know when the water requires a wetsuit. None of my tricks worked. I was humbled by the cold. And wary of the cold and this new swimming spot. All of my other swims save one inside the sand spit at Fay Bay have been in Fletcher Bay.
The Crystal Springs beach I know well, from way back. As a kid, my sister and I walked along this beach from my grandparents’ house to get Fudgsicles and Lemon Heads at Walt’s. Dad said that once when he was a boy they found a huge barrel on this beach—full of mayonnaise. And they opened it. And tried it. The story has become legend in our family.
But the water didn’t want me today. Despite my best efforts to acclimate, the cold set in.
As I stood waiting for acceptance, a grey haired woman in a tie dye passed by me on the beach, carrying a plastic bag. I waved, and thought she was picking up garbage. A few minutes later I looked back towards her. She had opened the bag and quietly sprinkled bright pink flower petals Into the water.
I was curious, but still focused on my task of becoming seal-like so that I might swim. I looked out again at the wind on the water, dipped my hands in. And then I heard it. Singing.
The flower petal woman started singing. It was prayer-like, a kind of chant in a language I didn’t understand.
I waited, keeping my eyes over the waves. Trying to give her voice space. I watched the petals slowly drift out over the waves, pulled out on currents I couldn’t see.
The singing stopped. I turned and watched her walk away across the sand back to the road.
Looking for a reason to give up my idea, I exited without even trying to dive under. Standing on the shore I looked out over the sparkling water, hungry to try again. Longing to swim away the stresses of the morning which were many. Paddle out and see what there was to see here.
I walked back in. I couldn’t decide which way to swim. It was still so cold. I dove under, braced myself and counted 10 strokes, as the ice flowed through me. So cold I didn’t bother to take a breath.
I popped up and quickly found my footing. I headed for shore and my towel and sweatshirt.
I had come to a place I had once known so well, spent hours hopping from log to log along this beach, but the water wouldn’t take me. My few strokes in the water felt like ice.
I questioned my toughness, my stamina, found myself disappointed with my inability to take the cold.
I had come prepared, but found myself completely unprepared. The rawness of the morning, my emotional strength was gone.
And yet. Today I heard music from the shore. The gift today was this woman and her petals and her singing. Her petals drifted off, cast out to wherever the waters might take them.
There is so little that we control. I thought I could defy the cold and with enough will power stave off the icy chill. I could not. As much as I want to be seal-like, surely I am not.
Maybe I’ll come here again sometime, and bring my wetsuit. Or maybe a bag of flower petals and a song.
Either way, the water will be here ready for me. To carry my thoughts away, or wash new ones in. Or perhaps just accept my petals and hear my song.
Another prayer for another day like this one, with happy crows perched on the logs and seagulls flying above and diamonds on the water and warm sand to take the chill off icy feet.
Mary Swims 