‘It’s not like being born; it feels much closer to death’
Stephen Corby dared to take the ultimate cold plunge by jumping into freezing waters in Swedish Lapland. Would you?
‘It’s like being born, you’ll love it.” Two words immediately come to mind as my imminent Arctic Bath experience is being sold to me: “bloody” and “terrifying”. I’m pretty sure there’s a reason humans don’t remember being born, so my Swedish host must be suggesting there will be screaming.
Happily, I am distracted from the oncoming ordeal by the spectacular setting of the Arctic Bath facility, 85km north of Lulea in Swedish Lapland. The striking circular building with a plunge pool of unspeakable cold at its centre looks like the sort of holiday house Jon Snow would have built for himself in Game of Thrones had he won the Westeros lottery.
Crested with snow, its roof resembles a crown of carelessly tossed logs, while the accommodation that surrounds it, perched on a vast frozen lake, looks stolen from the set of a Scandi film noir.
The welcoming woman in the misleadingly warm reception area seems unsurprised when I suggest I may have changed my mind about dunking myself in the aforementioned pool. Tellingly, she also admits that fewer than 5 per cent of her customers are Swedish; I have a strong sense that locals are lurking somewhere nearby, watching and laughing.
Crusted with a layer of ice, the pool’s surface freezes solid every night in winter and has to be cracked open each morning and prevented from re-freezing by pumping air into it.
My icy immersion will be leavened by a selection of steam rooms, saunas and outdoor hot tubs. If I survive, the benefits will apparently be “enhanced mood, improved circulation, accelerated muscle recovery, and the allure of healthier skin and hair”.
I start by warming up in one of the two dry saunas, the first of which is beautiful, with windows offering idyllic snowy views; the second would probably be described by Satan as “too hot”. Touching the door handle to get out, which I do very quickly after entering, is enough to remove layers of skin.
Suitably slathered in sweat, I step on to the snow in bare feet. The water looks dark and foreboding. I have been advised to “plunge or step mindfully” into the bath and then, somehow, relax and enjoy the cold water. Theoretically, you are meant to stay in for 30 seconds, but I last nowhere near that long on my first attempt; surely doing so would shrink a bloke’s testicles to the size of frozen peas. It feels as though a fridge freezer has landed on my chest. All the air is expelled from my body via a yelping, keening scream and I gasp for more while grasping for the ladder to escape. Somehow I have enough breath to swear profusely. The pain in my toes is overwhelming.
I make it back to the sauna virtually without touching the ground, and once there am overcome by an entirely new and invigorating sensation. My skin isn’t so much tingling as tap dancing. I feel spectacularly alive, aside from my toes, which may be in danger of falling off. I’m so energised I decide to follow my hosts’ suggested procedure by taking another icy dip and then leaping into an outdoor hot tub. Foolishly, I assume I’ll last longer this time, that it might hurt less and be less alarming.
I manage to paddle from one side to the other, high five a block of ice and then launch up the ladder and into the jacuzzi, where an entirely different kind of pain ensues. It’s as though someone has rubbed habanero chilli into every pore of my skin. Bizarrely, I feel so hot it’s unbearable to put my arms in the water. The rugged-up photographer documenting my torture points out that I’m breathing as if about to give birth rather than being reborn.
A few minutes later, the burning sensation is replaced by a deep sense of physical gratitude, as though my very blood is rejoicing through my capillaries. I stay in the hot tub for some time, soaking up the winter scenery and gazing at the pool, happy in the knowledge I won’t have to go in again.
I wouldn’t say the experience is like being born; indeed, it feels much closer to death. But as anyone who has ever gone skydiving will tell you, there’s nothing like coming close to dying to make you feel viscerally and victoriously alive.
In the know
Arctic Bath has day spa packages from $185 a person for two hours. Accommodation in the Arctic Bath Floating Cabins includes breakfast and spa access for two people; from $845 a night. Transfers from Lulea Airport are $420 each way; hire cars are available.
Stephen Corby was a guest of Polestar.
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