The First Time I Swam in the Icelandic Sea

My Relationship with Cold Water.

Until I swam in the Icelandic sea, I had a poor relationship with water. I have the memory of my dad holding me underwater to “help me” like it more. Also, I am typically a cold person. I like being warm better than I like being cold, and well, water tends to be cold. Growing up in Mexico as a small skinny boy I dreaded going to the waterparks because the pools were often filled with underground spring water. That water always came out freezing cold, so, naturally, I avoided getting in the water.

This relationship, however, started to improve when I was a teenager. After enough trips to the beach, and enough Arkansas summers spent at the lake, and a lack of my dad’s methods of encouragement, I realized water isn’t so bad. In college I even started working at a summer camp as a lifeguard. This all still revolved around warm water though. I didn’t mind the chillier water, so long as the sun was shining and the weather was warm. In 2019 though, my relationship with water changed once more. 

In 2019 I took a trip through Europe which had its grand finale in Iceland.

I had been to Iceland before and I knew that there are many hot baths. I knew I loved them, so I sought one out on the edge of Reykjavik. While sitting in the warm pool I noticed that there were people going over this little hill and disappearing on the other side. Then after a bit they would return and their skin would be totally red, as if they had been slapped all over their body by a gang of beavers. I was so intrigued. What is going on over there?

After some time of observing, I realized these people were wearing swimming caps and they were returning dripping wet. I concluded that they were swimming in the cove of the Icelandic sea in front of me. For some reason, the occasion was such that I decided I should try it. The sun was shining, my body was warm, I was feeling good. How bad could it be?

Full of confidence I made my way over the little hill and walked to the edge of the water. The chilly wind away from the hot bath made me suddenly aware of the commitment I was about to make. I continued to watch as a few people around this small beach were entering the water. There seemed to be no special technique to it, which meant that I didn’t need any special preparation, which also meant that there was nothing keeping me from going in. I stepped into the water until the it covered my ankles and it was immediately apparent that the water was very cold. 

Taking a Plunge.

I stood in the water a little while as if to see if my feet would somehow get used to the cold, but that did not happen. I walked further in until the water was just below my privates, which, I had learned from previous experiences, is usually the make or break point. The Icelandic sea at this point felt like it was squeezing my legs, but I decided I wasn’t going to back out.

Walking until the water was at my waist let me know it was no use easing into it. I took a full plunge forward until only my neck and head were above water. I remember feeling the cold flowing up my neck and feeling like it was squeezing my head. The sensation was like that of a cramp. Scared that I might be actually having a cramp in the middle of a freezing body of water, I immediately turned around and swam towards the shore. 

When I got out I had no towel. I was cold and in pain and, more than anything, I was embarrassed. Once more I felt defeated by cold water. I was once more a small skinny boy who was happier on the shore than he was swimming over the deep water.

The sensation was like that of a cramp. Scared that I might be actually having a cramp in the middle of a freezing body of water, I immediately turned around and swam towards the shore. 

When I got out I had no towel. I was cold and in pain and, more than anything, I was embarrassed. Once more I felt defeated by cold water.

Panting on the shore feeling the sun warm me up I felt slightly suspicious of the local people. They probably had done this since they were kids. They probably have endured enough North Atlantic winters to be affected by a little swim in the cold water. Heck, this is probably warm for them! Somehow I was convinced that they were used to this sort of thing, and I just didn’t have what they had to be able to endure it. 

A Fantastic Invitation.

Slowly, I made my way back to the hot bath and was relieved to be engulfed by the hot water in the concrete pool. While sitting there, I asked a couple that I had seen go to the beach and come back how they had done it. They responded that there was nothing special. Once a week they simply go in, swim 500 meters and then come back. It was this sort of comment that reinforced what I had suspected. That this was just something cultural, and that a Mexican living in the southern USA was not equipped to do.

Suddenly, a man next to me asked me if I had tried to swim already. The deep sound of his voice surprised me. I turned around to see a burly man with red hair and a red beard. He looked like Stoik from How to Train Your Dragon, but his voice and his demeanor was gentle. I told him that I had tried, but that I had felt my neck tense up and that I didn’t know what was happening with my body. He listened and nodded. Then he gently told me that he feels that same sensation every time he goes in. Apparently it is worse in the winter, when the water gets colder. Sheesh.

The man told me used to be a fisherman, but that he had an accident that rendered him unable to lift anything heavy. So he took up swimming as a way to stay active, and to spend time with his son. He said to me “Today is my day to swim 250 meters. In 15 minutes I will go in. I invite you to come.” The way he said this, and the way he had listened to me, and the way he talked made it impossible to say no. Though I was nervous about going back in the cold water I nodded my head and told him I would go.

Two is Better than One.

The 15 minutes passed and the man stood out of the hot bath and motioned me to follow him. Once more I walked over the little hill and we made our way to the edge of the water. The man did not hesitate and kept walking in. As we walked into the water he explained that we would go around a small wave barrier and come out on the other side. This would be about 250 meters. I just followed him and next thing I knew I was doing a breaststroke, and the cramp and squeeze sensation returned to my neck and head. This time, though, I had a teacher and a friend. The pain of the cold didn’t matter.

For about 50 meters the man and I just talked as we swam slowly. “I’m not a fast swimmer.” He explained. “You are lighter than me, so you are probably faster. You can swim as fast as you want.” I could feel my hands go absolutely numb, so eventually I did leave him. When I got out I waited for him at the shore. When he walked out he greeted me and we talked about the swim as we walked back to the hot bath. After another hour or so of hanging out and talking I had to leave. I thanked him and I got out of the hot pool. I went to the shower rooms to rinse off. Suddenly the cool water didn’t bother me so much. I changed into my clothes and hopped on my bicycle to head back home. 

My new relationship with water.

A few days later I was on a road trip with a few friends I had met on CouchSurf. We were exploring the West Fjords of Iceland, and along the way we stopped at a natural hot bath. The pool was carved out of volcanic rock and poured over into one of the bays. This time it was me who invited the guys to get in the ocean with me. The cold water was still painful to my skin, but somehow it was manageable. This time I was the last one to get out of the water and back into the hot pool.

Maybe it was because of association. Every time I have the chance to jump into some really cold water I don’t shy away from it. I now think back to that very gentle invitation to face a fear of mine. I succeeded at it, so I’m sure there is some association with success and victory that comes with it. But maybe it is something more subtle. Maybe it is more the fact that someone was willing to stand in the face of fear with me, and follow through with it. I wish I could remember his name. This man helped me permanently change my perspective. It turns out, I do have what it takes to swim in freezing waters. It turns out doing something scary isn’t so bad when you have someone next to you. And, it turns out, I actually kinda like cold water.