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TRAVELLER
DIPPING MY FOOT
into the cold lake, I let out a
small involuntary yelp. My first urge is to withdraw
immediately – but, resisting this, I slowly wade
deeper. Somehow, I manage to submerge myself
up to the chest and, as my heart begins to pound, I
swim out further into the frosty blue depths. There’s
a pretty island only a few hundred metres away, with
a dark church spire rising from the centre, but there’s
no chance I’ll stay in the near-freezing water long
enough to reach it. I’m becoming aware of a sensation
gradually penetrating deeper into my body – it started
off as tingling and now it’s closer to biting.
I swim back to shore as briskly as I can manage,
emerging quickly to find that my hands are almost
entirely numb. Fumbling and shivering, my only
concern is to dry myself and get dressed as quickly as
possible: fleece, hat, gloves and coat. They won’t be
coming off again any time soon.
It may sound like a peculiar type of water torture,
but I’m actually doing this out of choice. I’m at Lake
Bled, in Slovenia’s alpine region, an hour’s drive from
Ljubljana, to mark the start of the winter-swimming
season. Every year, as the temperature drops, a cadre
of hardy souls throw off their clothes and hit the
water with alarming enthusiasm. It’s a practice that is
repeated in similar fashion across the continent – from
Scandinavia, where the sauna ritual is incomplete
without a plunge into an ice pool, to central and
eastern Europe, where you’ll also find large numbers
heading to rivers and mountain lakes to enjoy this
most chilling of pastimes – even on New Year’s Day, in
some spots around the Baltic Sea.
It’s not hard to see why. Both winter and ice
swimming (where the water is actually frozen) are
reputed to boost circulation and the immune system;
and the release of adrenalin, alongside endorphins, the
into the chilly
of Lake
followed by
accustomed
swimmers
andMartin
body’s natural painkillers, creates a sense of euphor
Many winter swimmers are even said to develop an
addiction. Ultimately, though, you are purposefully
immersing your body in painfully cold water, so ca
do it unless you really enjoy it, too.
I’m here with someone who, it’s fair to say, really
does enjoy it. If the name Martin Strel sounds fami
it’s because you may have heard of his superhuman
exploits. In 2007, he swam the entire length of
the Amazon, the world’s longest river. It took him
66 days to cover the 5,268km stretch, all the time
avoiding piranhas, bull sharks and all manner of n
parasites. He did contract dengue fever in the proc
though. It may sound like quite a feat, but Strel has
form in this department. A professional marathon
swimmer, he has swum the whole Danube and the
Yangtze in China.
As a Slovenian and hardcore winter swimmer,
the burly, slightly grizzled 57-year-old is the obviou
person to show me how it’s done. Strel recently
founded a swimming holiday company with his so
Borut, the third member of today’s swimming part
They’ve already led trips in Slovenia and Croatia,
Adigital display on
the lake’s boathouse
registers the freezing
temperatures
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