The call of The Plunge

On New Year’s Day, I will dive into Lake Coeur d’Alene.

Yes, I admit it. I’m a proud Polar Bear Plunger, one of those who finds it fun to strip down to shorts at Sanders Beach and, at noon, charge into the icy water, dive in and come up screaming.

I’ve been doing this since we moved to Coeur d’Alene in the 1990s, minus the years we lived on Kauai (while I love North Idaho, sunshine and beaches, about now, would be nice).

I’ve recruited sons, daughters, daughters-in-law, son-in-law, nephews, friends and even my wife (one year, never again) to join me.

My youngest daughter, Jennie, did the plunge when she was about 5 or 6 years old. I promised my concerned wife I would look after her. A photo by then-Press photographer Bonnie Hudlet shows her diving in headfirst, with me right behind. Jennie survived and today still does what few others can. She lives in Kenya, where she runs a nonprofit, Start Small, that funds education for youth through sponsorships. She is paid little, but she is changing lives for the better, creating joy and hope for boys and girls who might not otherwise know it.

My daughter-in-law, Stevie, was pregnant with her son, Beau, when she did the plunge last year, so that makes our grandson the youngest plunger in the family. Her husband, my son, Nick, has always been a loyal plunger, often leading the way to the water.

Why we Polar Bear Plungers find this dip into the not-so deep exhilarating, I can’t explain. It sounds silly and ridiculous, which may be exactly why we do it, as we spend so much of our lives being serious.

There is something childlike when it comes to leaping into a lake in the winter. There is a sense of adventure that becomes harder to find as we get older.

Perhaps that is why I jumped into Lake McDonald at Glacier National Park a few Februaries ago when we went to Whitefish, Mont., for the winter carnival.

It could explain why, when we drive the Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier, I stop the car, run over and stand under the Weeping Wall, letting the cold water splash down on me, arms outstretched.

I guess that is why my good friend, Keith Erickson, and I used to run in snowstorms to Higgens Point, wearing our running shorts like it was summer. We didn’t care if it was a blizzard. The tougher, the better. Bring it on.

Which brings me back to the Polar Bear Plunge.

Conditions this year look relatively mild, with temperatures around 30, mostly cloudy. Too easy for my liking.

I’m still waiting for that Jan. 1 when it’s subzero, and blinding snow is whipping down and sideways and we are warned to stay indoors. Only the most foolish of people, the most reckless, the most insane, would still show up for the plunge.

So you know I’ll be there.