Volunteers help swimmers out of the water at the end of their swim. Participants note it’s often after the swim that they feel the most pain. Photo / Jessica Russell
In a region where early gold miners endured brutal winters for the promise of fortune, competitive ice swimmers embrace the cold in pursuit of rewards less tangible, yet perhaps even more valuable, writes Kathy Young.
Why in the world would anyone willingly plunge into sub-5C water, with nothing but a standard swimsuit, silicon cap and goggles? My curiosity got the better of me, so I headed to the Blue Lake at St Bathans, Central Otago, one wintry July weekend to find out why.
It’s here that 51 swimmers go to battle with themselves in near-freezing conditions during the International Ice Swimming Association (IISA) Aotearoa NZ national open water championships. This is the second time swimmers have submitted themselves to these temperatures here. IISA holds the ice swimming event here biennially (it is held at Alexandra Aquatic Centre in alternate years), with top swimmers eligible for selection to compete at the World Ice Swim Championships.
The location of the venue is thick with New Zealand’s rich pioneering history. St Bathans, established in 1863, was established as hopeful gold chasers flooded the area, hoping to strike it lucky. A quarry below the township, abandoned in 1932 when mining ceased, filled with mineral-rich water, transforming it into the startlingly beautiful Blue Lake, known as “the cathedral of swimming”.
“It’s a stunning location,” says event director Susan Sherwen, whose own swimming prowess is noteworthy. The 64-year-old has swum across Lake Taupō, around Rangitoto Island and across Raukawa Moana Cook Strait, to mention a few.
For Sherwen, who represents New Zealand’s growing ice swimming community, the extreme sport’s appeal lies in its pure confrontation with limits.
“I think it’s addictive,” she says. “The endorphins are quite a rush, but it’s also the community spirit here. Giving and receiving support are equally important. Plus, nothing compares to being outdoors with your mates in such a stunning setting.”
Yet this is no reckless plunge. IISA has established comprehensive safety protocols that transform what might appear as madness into a measured sport. Each swimmer is accompanied by an inflatable rescue boat with a lifeguard and medic onboard. Medical clearance is mandatory. Stroke rates are monitored. Medical teams stand ready, positioned lakeside in recovery tents packed with hot water bottles and blankets.
The sport’s growing appeal has attracted remarkable domestic talent, including sisters Heidi, 16, and Sophie, 18, Winter from Alexandra, who recently returned from the sixth IISA World Championships in Italy, with Heidi becoming New Zealand’s first open category winner with gold in the 100m freestyle and a world record in her age category, while Sophie claimed gold in the 100m breaststroke.
As I talk to swimmers, three things become clear.
Firstly, it all comes down to mindset and challenge.
As Stacey Balich, a 45-year-old educator, says before taking the plunge for her first-ever ice mile (1.6km), “It’s 80% mind, 20% body. I argue with myself before getting in and even during the swim. I tell myself over and over that I can do this. It’s not easy when everything is hurting, but it’s worth it.”
The ability to “switch off the chatter” is what Wellington-based software engineer and father of two Jackson Arlidge, 34, is looking for in the water’s numbing embrace. Here, he’s just completed the fastest ice mile in New Zealand history at 23 minutes 19 seconds, and swims 2.75km in 44 minutes 43 seconds, which is a New Zealand ice swim record.
As organiser and referee Roger Soulsby notes, this success stems from “a community of inclusiveness and a desire for extreme hardness”.
“I think Kiwis are known for being outdoorsy, and this is the next step in that journey,” he says.
Secondly, there’s typically a back story, adversity or a cause greater than themselves that drives them. For some, it’s recovering from illness, for others, it’s losing a friend or overcoming mental or physical hardship.
Balich swims because her swimming friend, who passed away from cancer, is unable to be here. Teodor Tsvetkov, a 30-year-old Bulgarian, swims to help raise awareness about water conservation.
“I want people to realise that water is precious, and I want people to be inspired to follow their dreams,” he says.
Thirdly, swimmers seem to simply find beauty in swimming in the natural environment and connecting with community. Davey Jones (Ngāti Kahungunu, Te Aitanga-a-Hauiti, Ngā Rauru), 57, a Fish & Game field officer, who begins each swim with karakia, acknowledges “the whenua for the privilege of being in te taiao [nature], and acknowledging all those who have come before me”.
Among the international contingent is Marion Joffle, 26, from Normandy, France, affectionately known as “the smiling penguin”. Her presence at Blue Lake represents the fifth stage of her goal to swim ice miles on each of the seven continents.
For Joffle, the motivation runs deep. At 6 years old, cancer claimed one of her fingers. When her treatment finally ended at age 16, she made a pact with herself: to fill her life with water-based adventures and challenges. She went on to become France’s national 25km swimming champion and set a new French female record for swimming the English Channel, at 9 hours 22 minutes.
She tells me of her most sobering lesson in Norway, where she attempted an ice mile in -1C water with a wind chill of -17. At 1550m, she blacked out.
“I find the recovery the most difficult,” she says, echoing a sentiment shared by many swimmers who discover that leaving the water, not entering it, brings the real pain.
I speak with Dr Arend Merrie, Associate Professor of Surgery at the University of Auckland and a surgeon at Nelson Hospital, a volunteer supporting his wife at the event, who explains the body’s response to these extreme conditions.
“The body adjusts by shutting down the peripheries in order to maintain blood flow to the brain.” Recovery requires warming “from the inside out”, to prevent what’s colloquially known as the “afterdrop”, where the body’s core temperature continues to fall, even on leaving the water.
This championship unfolds within Central Otago’s breathtaking landscape. St Bathans’ main draw is the heritage-listed Vulcan Hotel, arguably the country’s most well-known haunted building.
Sporting achievement seems to be part of the area’s heritage, within its DNA, with a plaque outside nearby Oturehua’s Gilchrist’s General Store listing all the local champions who have represented New Zealand in sport. It’s apparently due for an update. The heritage-listed store itself is worth a visit. It’s the oldest continuous trading general store in New Zealand and a rare delight for nostalgia enthusiasts, merging the old and the new.
Just 30 minutes from St Bathans is the township of Naseby, whose residents are awaiting word from the International Dark Sky Association that they will soon be acknowledged as the Naseby Night Sky Community; the culmination of nine years of community dedication to controlling light pollution. The town also houses New Zealand and Australia’s only international curling rink, cementing the region’s reputation for embracing winter sports.
Nearby, there’s Cambrian, boasting the rustic, weathered school building. And Ranfurly, with its Art Deco buildings, is a great stopping off point on the Otago Rail Trail.
The unique landscape has been a magnet for Hollywood location spotters over the years. The rolling hills visible from the highway between St Bathans and Oturehua served as the backdrop for The Power of the Dog and Netflix movie East of Eden, while the rocky tundras of Ida Valley are known to fans as the shooting location that served as the village of Rohan in the Lord of the Rings film trilogy.
As the ice swimmers prepare for their next challenge, they’re participating in something that feels uniquely suited to this landscape. It’s a sport that demands the same kind of resilience and determination that built these isolated communities. Where gold miners once prospected for wealth, these swimmers are prospecting for riches in health and testing their limits against nature’s harshest conditions.
The writer was supported by Tourism Central Otago.