“Take off your clothes,” a foreign voice said over the loudspeaker – slowly, rhythmically, emphasising each syllable. “Get into the water.”
It was not the kind of voice you disobey. So although I was on the Arctic circle, surrounded by ice and snow on all sides, I got in. Technically, the 25-metre pool was in a river, although even at a time of year when temperatures rise and daylight increases, the ice it was cut into was thick enough to drive snowmobiles across. This was the moment I had been training for the past six months: the 50-metre men’s freestyle event at the World Winter Swimming Championships (WWSC) in Rovaniemi, Finnish Lapland.
Within the world of international sport, winter swimming is about as niche as you can get. This, with 1,200 participants, is its biggest event. It’s small, but everything you’d see at a flagship competition or another sport, you had here too. There were the white-coated officials, assiduously ensuring correct procedure. There were the flags on a bridge over the frozen river in the colours of all 34 represented countries. And there were the equally colourful spectators on the icy slope overlooking the pool. Many were kitted out in hats, wigs, scarves and other paraphernalia, feeding the carnival atmosphere with singing and chanting.
Almost all were also swimming themselves. No one seemed to know the precise water temperature, but given that attendants with nets were continuously fishing ice from the pool’s edges, suffice to say it was pretty cold. You wouldn’t really expect anything else in the official hometown of Santa Claus – but for anyone who missed the point, there was a huge snowman at the stadium entrance, wearing a bobble hat and holding two Finnish flags.
It was a big change from my training swims at London’s Parliament Hill lido – where I went two or three times a week in accordance with standard acclimatisation advice. I often felt cold for the rest of the day, though I spent the season largely free of any colds. I grew to expect the shudder on entering the water. Even when you know it’s coming, it never disappears – and the cold finds new ways to get to you, whether in your hands, feet, or teeth. Get into a warm shower afterwards and you will never want to leave it.
At the event itself I had too much adrenaline to properly feel the chill. There was a long build up. We trudged from our assigned changing rooms (in flip flops, dressing gowns, fleeces and hats) to assemble in rows in a heated tent, where we waited before finally being led to the poolside. In the end, I completed the distance in 41 seconds, which earned a respectful nod from a US marathon swimmer I spoke to in the hot tub afterwards. But although I was pleased with the result, I only came 33rd out of 40 swimmers in my heat.
Winter swimming is a serious business – not only here in Finland, where the first WWSC event was held in 2000 – but also in Russia, Eastern Europe, China and elsewhere. Despite that, it takes place on a pleasingly human scale. Stars and newcomers can mingle freely. Sometimes they are the same person. I met the winner of the men’s 450-metre distance, the German Christof Wandratsch, a bearded burly former English Channel world record holder in fluorescent clothing. This was the first time he had tried winter swimming and he gave me some refreshingly simple advice: “Swim as fast as you can and get out of the water”. Pool swimming is a young person’s game – Rebecca Adlington retired at 23. But Wandratsch, in his late forties, is an example of how veterans can thrive in cold water. If anything, youth is a disadvantage. A little extra body insulation is decidedly not.
Endorphins do not discriminate. But it isn’t just for the buzz that people do it – there’s also a quieter side. When you immerse yourself in an environment, you feel more connected to it. This is particularly striking in Finland – as I found out at the event last March. But this winter, I also realised it applied to London. The water was 6C by the time I went for my first cold-water swim. But I found it much easier than I was expecting, and the sense of calm afterwards lasted the whole day. I was enjoying winter and appreciating my surroundings.
No wonder there’s now a campaign to include ice swimming as a Winter Olympic event. It has everything you want from a sport. At the top level there are thrilling, almost superhuman feats of endurance. At the lowest, it’s accessible to all ages, shapes and sizes. And there are few barriers to entry. More and more people are being won over, with growing numbers taking part in cold festive dips over Christmas and New Year (even though the one in Brighton was cancelled).
If you didn’t join them, it’s not too late: you can still enter the CWSC at Tooting Bec Lido, South London, on 24 January.
You could also go with SwimQuest on a winter tour of Rovaniemi itself. Or you might want to wait for the next WWSC event at Tyumen, Siberia in 2016. If you think these sound like hard work, just remember that the reality couldn’t be more straightforward. Take off your clothes. Get into the water.
The trip was provided by Visit Finland and Visit Rovaniemi.
More information at facebook.com/InternationalWinterSwimmingAssociation
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