January 2, 2007 in Idaho
New Year’s Day tradition not for the coldhearted
Hundreds of revelers started the new year with a dip in Lake Coeur d’Alene – an icy baptism that stole breath from lungs and numbed fingers and toes.
The temperature gauge stood at 28 degrees Monday. With wind chill, it felt like 21 degrees. But Sanders Beach was alive with merriment as bathers counted down the minutes until the annual Polar Bear Plunge.
At the stroke of noon, they flung off parkas, bathrobes and blankets – baring goose-pimpled skin and winter-white arms and legs. The crowd ran shrieking into the water and exited just as quickly.
Ken Martin clamored back to the shore with chattering teeth. The Southwest Airlines ticket agent hasn’t missed a Polar Bear Plunge for 14 years. He volunteers to work Thanksgiving and Christmas, so he can take New Year’s Day off.
“You get caught up in it,” the Spokane resident explained. “My friends ask every year if I’m going to do it.”
The infectious spirit of the event keeps people coming back.
“More leg, more leg,” David Murley hollered to a group of women who struck chorus-line poses for a picture, pale legs peeking out from beneath terry cloth bathrobes.
Family members and friends describe 55-year-old Murley as the “Ironman of the Polar Bears.” The Coeur d’Alene man is also a 14-time plunge veteran – and one of the few who actually swims out into the lake. For others, the routine is dart in, dunk under the waves and duck out.
“He watches his ‘Rocky’ video the day before to get pumped up,” said Murley’s chuckling wife, Lynne. She takes pictures for a family calendar, which is sent to disbelieving relatives in Southern California. The couple’s three kids often join their dad.
“It’s a North Idaho tradition,” said Murley, suddenly semi-serious. “In our world today, we need to maintain traditions.”
The plunge is also traditional for Denise Mosegaard, who brought a group of mostly 50-something friends. The women rang in the New Year until 2:30 a.m., walked five miles in the Handicap Hangover Run earlier that morning and ended their celebration with the plunge. They were decked out in New Year’s crowns, feather boas and plastic magenta glasses that spelled out 2007.
“Sleeping is for when you’re dead,” Mosegaard said, fortifying herself for the dip with sips of spiked cider.
One of her friends, a registered nurse, waited on the shore with a camera. Tammy Cunningham came to perform CPR if necessary, the others joked.
This was the first Polar Bear Plunge since the Idaho Supreme Court’s September ruling that large portions of Sanders Beach are privately owned by adjacent homeowners. Participants bunched together on public areas of the beach.
At the 12th Street entrance to the beach, Chad and Denise Bennett of Rathdrum counted down the minutes to noon on the “official” timepiece – a battery powered clock on a pole held by a stuffed polar bear. At the beach’s 15th Street entrance, Paul Michalowicz and his son, Jason, marked a similar countdown with bells and a bullhorn. Jason, 12, had sprayed himself blue with Halloween hair dye.
Eric Nelson, the owner of Pyramid Printing in Coeur d’Alene, sold T-shirts and sweat shirts with a Polar Bear Plunge logo. The event is a tradition for him, too. Nelson got up at 6 a.m. to do the printing. It’s a good way to use up last year’s T-shirt inventory, he said.
The fight over the beach’s ownership created uncertainty for public users.
“Last year, we weren’t sure whether we’d be able to do this again,” said Rene Roach of Hayden Lake, who was glad to be back.
Her son, 17-year-old Joshua, was born on New Year’s Day. Every year, the family gathers at the beach to celebrate. This year, Roach’s husband, Scott, brought along a fake palm tree for ambience.
Palm trees sounded good to Christina Anderson of Rathdrum, a first-time plunge participant, who was dreaming of warm beaches and white sand. Perhaps that explained the plastic pink flamingo on her head.
She and a group of friends showed up in flamingo headgear. “We were trying to think of how to find each other in the crowd,” explained Brenda Eliff of Coeur d’Alene.
The friends hatched a plan to take the plunge together. Their paparazzi husbands snapped pictures of them in swimsuits.
“We were drinking wine at the time,” Anderson explained.
Marsha Clemens considered backing out at the last minute. “I’ve thought of a reason why I can’t go,” she said, clutching her fuzzy, pink bathrobe closer. “I forgot to bring my sunscreen.”
Minutes later, the women held hands and raced into the lake.

Spokane7


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