When I started this blog in 2014 I focused on my first swim trip to China.  Since then it has meandered into other topics.  This entry is back its original roots – my recent journey to Lake Bled, Slovenia for the International Winter Swimming Championships.

The Swedish-American Winter Swimming League

My 2015 trip to China was eventful, not just for the swim, but for the people I met. The first night there we met two guys from Sweden, Mikael and Nils.  At first I thought we probably didn’t have too much in common but over the week we shared a great many stories and laughs.  One of our last evenings was spent in a rundown karaoke bar (where the words were all in Chinese but it didn’t matter much as we were all too inebriated to read in any language). I don’t have a clear memory of the evening but that night the Swedish-American Winter Swimming League was born.

Like Brigadoon, we decided we would meet up once a year – in some cold location to swim, and laugh.  A year later found us in Skelleftea – a few blocks from Lapland – swimming in a pool carved into a river followed by a raucous night in the basement of the town’s only Indian restaurant that doubled as a karaoke bar. Our next trip took us to Jelgava, Latvia where we swam in another cold river.  In that one I did my first 50M – where I set the record (that I think still stands today) of taking the longest time to swim the shortest distance in the coldest waters.  That evening, replete in our official Swedish-American Winter Swimming League shirts, we entertained the crowd with our rendition of One Night in Bangkok.  What we may have lacked stellar swim skills (though the other League members were, and are, great athletes, we certainly had spirit). Back in the states two of us participated in the infamous 2017 Lake Memphremagog swim (where the local ski lift was closed when the temperatures dropped to -11 but we kept swimming).

Mann Tracht, Un Gott Lacht (Yiddish for ‘Man Plans, God Laughs’)

In early May, 2017 over martinis Dave and I  discussed the 2018 International Winter Swim Champion.  The Championships were in Estonia for a week.  It would be a commitment of time and money.   “We only live once,” he said. That was a Wednesday night. Dave died that following Sunday at the beach. He had a stroke while swimming. Whether it was luck, cluelessness or insensitivity, it was my first experience with true grief.

In the weeks after he died the idea of getting into any body of water was difficult.  A few months earlier Diane and I had booked a trip to Los Angeles for early June to meet up with my childhood friend Larry to swim in a charity fundraiser he sponsors.  I was loath to go but Diane and Larry encouraged me. The warm pool in Southern California surrounded by palm trees was therapeutic.

Later that year  Diane and I went to Stockholm. I wanted to be with my Swedish brothers for my birthday – to cry and then laugh.  It was more social than sporting.  In 2018 I went to Vermont.  I wore my Swedish-American Winter Swimming League shirt and was surrounded by members of “The Tribe” as the Memphremagog winter swimmers are known.

In 2019 we decided to meet Mikael and Nils in London for the Tooting Bec Winter Swim.  We met up with some of the folks who were also in China.  This included Jackie Cobell who holds the record for taking the longest time to swim the English Channel (28 hours, 44 minutes).  It was Jackie who said to me, “Seth, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.” I love that (and it sounds great in her accent).

Slovenia

Mikael and Nils began planning for the 2020 International Championship and wanted me to be there – we had made a plan to meet once year for a swim after all.  All my other swims were one day affairs and never more than a few hundred participants.  This would be spread out over a week with over 1,000 participants in a remote location.  I was excited, though full of trepidation.  So, the training began. I am the king of the slow 25M – breast and freestyle. Over the fall I went out to Brighton Beach on Saturdays, and then with the Coney Island Polar Bear Club on Sundays where I swam off to the side as most folks plunged.  I went to the pool too – not that my technique ever improved.  And I hit the gym – I had to at least look somewhat in shape when standing next to my Viking brothers who are 15 years younger than me.  The thought of being seen in a Speedo certainly encourages one to do many sit ups. (I needn’t had worry – there were a lot of guys older than me who didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned!).  We  had ‘official’ caps and  gear bags – swag is an important part of the Swedish-American Winter Swimming League!

Cold, Deep and Different

Sure I had trained, but swimming in uncharted waters is hard – at least for me.  The water temperature in Bled would be similar to the Atlantic in Brooklyn (40F), but salt water is buoyant, fresh water not so much.  In Brooklyn I always swim shallow and know I can touch bottom if needed.  In Bled I’d be in over my head.  The venue was spectacular.  Slovenia is a fairy tale country. The Julian Alps are dotted by villages that are right out of a Grimm Brothers tale. A castle towers over Lake Bled.  I was in Zubrowka from the flick, The Grand Budapest Hotel.  Admittedly it was a little hard to enjoy it as the days prior to any swim are always anxious for me  – and as I learned most everyone else. I think every swimmer has a way to focus and over the years I have tried, and finally figured out, the technique of visualization.  I decided to imagine that when I was walking out to the platform I was in a swim place I always felt comfortable – and with people I knew: Beaver Lake, Nebraska with Diane, Madeline and Kerry close by under the Belvedere; at Brighton Beach with my CIBBOW’s friends warming themselves on the shore; or at the LaGuardia pool with the lifeguard pacing the side telling us to swim in a circle. I told myself that getting into Lake Bled would be same as in any of these venues – the only difference was that Mikael, Nils and an entire collection of new found Swedish friends would be cheering me on.

The protocol is the whistle blows three times and we disrobe.  Then it blows one time and we submerge in the water.  As I did I looked directly across to the end of the lane.  Despite my speed – or lack of – I knew I would get there. The buzzer then sounded and I swam. And even though I was by myself – I was not alone.